Buried Beneath
by scarlet79
Summary: "Callen emerged from the warehouse in a sort of dazed stagger, his arms full of trembling redhead." What happened to Callen and Nell in the warehouse, and how had they gotten there? It's up to the rest of the team to figure things out and help the two heal, both physically and emotionally. WARNING - M rating due to possible triggers. Read at your own risk!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

Callen emerged from the warehouse in a sort of dazed stagger, his arms full of trembling redhead. He was bleeding from a gash on his left arm and a smaller cut on his forehead, and his lips were a dangerous shade of white. In his arms, clutched tightly to his chest despite his wounds, Nell Jones held onto his ripped and dirty t-shirt for dear life, her grime-streaked face sporting two clean trails where tears had washed her skin, exposing her freckles to the sun. Callen squinted in the bright light, too harsh on his blue eyes, and at first when he saw the team rushing toward him he seemed to shrink back, trying to cover Nell with his own body. But whether he eventually recognized them or just became too exhausted to care, he finally allowed himself to drop to his knees onto the pavement, though he still kept the petite woman close to his heart. He held her on his lap, one hand pressing her head against his chest as he murmured softly into her ear.

Sam Hanna stopped and dropped into a crouch before his partner, dark chocolate eyes full of concern.

"G?" It was a single word - a letter, really - but within it Sam had managed to convey every thought, question and emotion inside himself.

Haunted eyes full of pain stared back at him, and then Callen shook his head slowly, as if in a dream. His tongue darted out to wet his dry, pale lips, but either he forgot to speak or lacked the will to do so.

The visage before him frightened Sam in a way he'd never thought possible. The man kneeling there had been through terrible things, situations that Sam would never in his worst nightmares have imagined - and that was saying a lot for a Navy SEAL - but somehow, Callen finally looked well and truly broken. And that was something Sam never wanted to see again.

Reaching out his large hands, Sam said, "Let me take her, G."

Callen blinked, and then as Sam's offer sank into his dehydrated brain he suddenly twisted away from his partner, violently shaking his head.

"No!" He shouted, startling everyone there. "No, you can't take her!"

Sam looked up at the EMT who had come near and gave a terse shake of his head, and the man grew wide-eyed and wisely backed off.

"G," he tried again, his voice even softer than before, "Nell needs help. Please."

The sound of her name made Callen start, and he glanced down at her face before once more meeting his partner's gaze.

"It's my fault," he said, his voice a harsh croak that sounded very unlike him.

As Sam assured him it wasn't, Deeks and Kensi shared a look of concern. Nell was very still, though they could see that her eyes were open and she was breathing, so that at least was encouraging. But the way she was holding onto Callen, so tightly her knuckles were white, was so completely opposite of her independent nature that Kensi was afraid to find out what had happened to her.

To them.

The sun beating hot onto his tired body must have sent Callen over the edge, for at last he let Sam pry Nell from his arms and carry her to the back of a waiting ambulance. Kensi walked up to Callen and handed him a cold bottle of water, but he simply held it in his hand, his fingers denting the plastic making a crinkling sound every time they flexed. Concerned, she gently took his bicep and pulled him to his feet, and he leaned heavily on her to stay upright. She looked down and saw that the bottom half of his jean-clad right leg was soaked with blood. He was leaving a dark red trail across the parking lot, and she began to fear that he was losing a significant amount of blood, so she began to steer them toward a second ambulance. Callen picked up on her intention immediately, and defiantly pulled away to head for Nell instead. Unwilling to leave him on his own, Kensi silently went along with him. Injured or not, he was still their team leader, after all.

Their diminutive analyst lay huddled on the gurney, blankly staring at the wall of the ambulance over the EMT's head as he took her vitals and recorded them on a chart. Sam stood on the ground outside; his body was still, but Kensi could tell that his very soul wanted to tear something apart. He hated seeing Nell like this. She was usually so cheerful, but now she was sullen and silent, constantly on the verge of tears. And Callen wasn't much better, he thought as the shorter man limped over to them, held up mostly by Kensi. He avoided Sam's gaze, dropping his blue eyes in what could only be described as guilt. The former SEAL thought back to the words Callen had spoken before: _"It's my fault."_

What was his fault? Sam wondered. What had occurred inside that building? He could tell that both Callen and Nell had been beaten; was that what his partner was talking about? Was he feeling guilty for not being able to protect her? Sam looked at Callen, who had managed to climb up into the ambulance and was now holding one of Nell's hands in both of his. They said nothing, only stayed there with their eyes locked onto each other's face, and Sam thought it made the most heartbreaking picture he'd ever seen.

Finally, Deeks spoke aloud the thought on everyone's mind.

"What happened in there? What'd they do to them?"

Kensi slipped her arm around her partner's waist and he squeezed her closer, dropping a casual kiss on her head. He knew how close she was to both Callen and Nell; seeing them like this - in some kind of shock and badly injured - had to be hard on her as well.

"G," Sam called again, and finally Callen dragged his head up to stare at his partner. His lips moved to say, "Yeah," but no sound came.

"We'll meet you at the hospital, okay?"

He gave a single nod, just a ghost of one, but it would have to be enough. Then, his eyes darted around and he rasped, "Hetty?"

"She'll be there," Kensi told him, resting her hand on his knee. He looked down, studying her fingers as if determining whether they were a threat, and she quickly withdrew them. "She had an emergency meeting with Granger."

"We gotta move," the EMT told them then. "They're both in shock."

Sam nodded. To Callen he said, "Take it easy, G."

Doors slammed shut, blocking their view of their teammates, and the ambulance started off toward the hospital. Sam turned to the junior agent and her LAPD-liason-slash-partner. Her eyes were glossy as she said, "We need to find out what happened in there."

Sam nodded his agreement. "I've never seen G like that before. Not even when he was shot five times."

"Why don't you go ahead to the hospital? Deeks and I will check out the scene."

He paused a moment to look around. Police vehicles made a semi-circle around the warehouse, parked haphazardly in the officers' rush to secure the building. That very moment, the coroner's van doors were opened, waiting to receive the four corpses the final standoff and shootout had created. A large black SUV idled beside that, and they all watched as the lone survivor - beside the two NCIS agents, of course - was unceremoniously shoved into its back seat, his arms handcuffed behind him.

"Okay," Sam finally agreed. "Be careful and thorough. We can't afford to screw this up."

She nodded. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

Kensi and Deeks watched as Sam drove off in the Challenger, and then she looked up into her partner's face, her dark eyes clouded with sadness. He lightly touched her nose with his finger, his own blue eyes mirroring hers.

"I know, Fern," he said softly. "I know." Then, taking her hand, he led the way into the warehouse, ducking under the police tape already criss-crossed over the doorway. He stopped just inside the building and turned to study her face. The sunlight streamed through an upper window in just the right way that a single beam struck her face, and he bit back a smile as the dust particles swimming through it reminded him of sparkles, haloing around her as if she were a saint, or even an angel. Despite the horrors that had undoubtedly occurred here, he couldn't help but see the beauty of the space, the ivy that swirled down each pillar so lush and green, the glass on the floor reflecting the sunlight like the gentle waves of the ocean...

Tossing his head to clear the image, he said, "You sure about this? We don't know what we might find in here. It could be..."

She nodded vigorously. "We have to. We owe it to both of them."

"Okay," he conceded. "But what if whatever we find is something they don't want us to know about?"

Kensi stared up into his face. "We'll have to take that chance. You saw them, Deeks. They were so..."

"Broken," he finished for her in a whisper, and she nodded.

"We can't let them face that alone."

She was right, and the nod he gave showed he knew it. Taking the lead once more, he walked further inside, down a narrow corridor and finally into the main storeroom. It was mostly empty, the usual stacks of boxes long ago shipped to their respective owners, only the slowly rusting rows of metal shelving left behind, the broken windows letting the elements and all kinds of creatures inside.

Along one wall, secluded by thick plastic tarps that billowed in the ocean breeze, they found the crime scene. Attached to the wall itself was a strong metal ring, and from it dangled two chains that ended in handcuffs. A few feet away, another tarp lay spread out on the ground. Splattered on its surface were dark red spots, some larger ones denoting the places where blood had been allowed to pool and the smaller speckles reminiscent of cast-off from a weapon. Deeks stood surveying the scene for quite a while, his hands on his hips. He'd be lying if he said that looking at the place his friends had been tortured didn't affect him, but out of necessity he pushed his emotions to the back of his mind and focused on the job.

"Looks like they had Callen over there, he said, gesturing to the long handcuffs. "So they would've had Nell..."

"Over here," Kensi said, clearly having a harder time masking her feelings. "There are a woman's bare footprints here, in the blood. Small enough to be Nell's." Her hands shook as she snapped pictures of the prints for later comparison.

"Okay, so Callen was chained up with a direct view of her. Which means that whatever they did to her, he'd be forced to watch," Deeks deduced.

"And vice versa." Kensi stood up and brushed her hands off on her pants. She took a few steps away, looking down at the floor, and then stopped.

"What?" Deeks asked.

She knelt down again, and he moved to join her.

"What is it?" He asked again.

"These marks here, in the dirt on the floor."

"Yeah?"

"Tripod," she said, and he understood immediately.

"Video camera?" He asked.

She nodded. "And see those marks over there?" She pointed to a spot a few feet to the left.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice strained. A deep pit was beginning to form in his stomach, making it turn sickly in his gut.

"A table, probably. Something to hold more equipment. Like a computer or laptop."

"You think they recorded themselves torturing Nell and Callen and uploaded it to the Internet?" He asked. "Can you even get Wi-fi in here?"

Kensi shrugged. "That's a question for Eric. But I once went undercover in Germany and found a market for this kind of movie."

"What, like snuff films?"

"Sort of. They weren't always pornographic, though."

"Like that makes a difference," Deeks growled, and she nodded in agreement. "We should call Hetty and fill her in."

"And see if Eric can find this footage," Kensi put in.

"And let's not forget, we still need to have a chat with our only living suspect."

She shuddered, clearly not looking forward to that. "I'd rather put a bullet in him. But we need to know what he knows, so..."

"Trust me, I'm with you." He took a step away from the gruesome scene and held out his hand. "We're done here. Let's get to the hospital and check on Callen and Nell."

Grateful that her partner understood her limits, Kensi took his outstretched hand and let him pull her to her feet. As they walked outside and back into the bright sun, Kensi shaded her eyes with her hand and felt an inkling of what Callen must have experienced less than an hour ago. Being shut in the gloomy warehouse so long would have made the sunlight seem like a ten-thousand watt bulb shining right at his face, and paired with his shock and blood loss would have sent him into the kind of panic a wild animal felt when cornered. She was glad he'd had the presence of mind to recognize them and realize that he was finally safe. Otherwise...well, she would rather not ponder the alternative outcomes.

Deeks' voice calling her name finally seeped through her haze, and she blinked and stared blankly at him. He gestured to the car they stood beside, keys dangling from his hand. Her keys, she realized, though she could not recall ever giving them to him.

"I'm driving," he stated flatly, and she nodded.

"Good idea," she said. "Thanks."

As she got in and buckled her seatbelt, she stared out at the place Callen had dropped to his knees with Nell in his grasp, his face a mask of horror, fear, and guilt.

 _Don't worry, Callen,_ she said to her vision of him. _You're not alone._

* * *

 _TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He only had one thought upon waking.

 _Nell._

 _Where was Nell?_

His blue eyes came open at once and he sat up, a sharp tug in his right arm forcing him to stop. Looking down, he saw an IV snaking from his skin, clear fluid siphoning through the plastic tubing, and at the same time he realized that a heart monitor was beeping out his pulmonary rhythm from beside the bed.

 _Nell,_ his mind screamed. _Find Nell._

Holding the IV so it wouldn't snag again, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tested them by standing up, not liking the weakness he felt in the right leg, but that was secondary to his mission. He was about to pull the heart monitor's finger cuff off when a large shadow filled the doorway, blocking his only exit.

"Hey!" The man's voice boomed. "Where d'you think you're going, G?"

"Nell," he rasped.

God, what had happened to his voice? He sounded like he'd swallowed a box of razor blades.

"Gotta find Nell."

Large hands settled on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down on the bed. He would have fought back, but damn, he was so tired. Why? he wondered. What was wrong with him?

"She's okay," the other man said, and finally Callen's foggy brain filled in who he was.

 _Sam._

 _His partner._

"She's in the room across the hall."

"I need to see her. She was..." Callen looked away suddenly, shame filling his ocean blue gaze.

"You need to get a little strength back first. I promise you, she's gonna be fine."

Now Callen looked at him. Glared at him, actually. His jaw clenched, he ground out, "Fine?" The growl slowly turned to a hoarse shout as he said, "No. She'll never be fine!"

Sam glanced quickly at the door, expecting nurses to come running, but when it remained empty he said, "Calm down, G."

His chest still heaved, but at least he stopped yelling. When he was sure it was safe, Sam quietly said, "The others are on their way. What happened to you two?"

Callen refused to meet his gaze. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"You're gonna have to, eventually," his partner told him. "You know me, G. You can trust me."

"How can I?" Callen asked, staring down at his hands.

They were scrubbed clean now, but he could still see the blood...

So softly Sam had to strain to hear, he added, "I can't even trust myself."

"What do you mean?" Sam wondered aloud, but Callen just shook his head. "Please, talk to me."

He sat there, staring at Callen's sullen profile, until Kensi and Deeks cautiously slunk into the room. Though Kensi immediately crossed the small space and bent to put her arms around the team leader, Deeks preferred to stay where he was, leaning against the door frame. Sam stood and went to join him.

"He say anything?" Deeks asked quietly, and Sam shook his head.

"Still must be in shock. Doc said there was significant trauma to a good portion of his body, not including the bullet wounds in his arm and leg."

"So they beat him half to death and shot him. Twice."

Sam nodded. "Nell, too. Among other things."

Deeks' eyes widened. "They didn't."

"They did," Sam ground out.

"So it was snuff," Marty muttered to himself, too late realizing that Sam had heard.

"You found something?"

Deeks nodded. "Not here," he said under his breath, throwing a glance at Callen, who was still sitting stiffly on the bed with Kensi's arms around him. Sam tilted his head toward the hall, and the two of them slipped out around the door frame to talk.

"Spill it," Sam ordered.

"Okay. We found where they were keeping them. It was sectioned off from the rest of the space with tarps. They had Callen chained up against a wall, and kept Nell right in front of him on the floor. Kensi found evidence of what she thinks was a video camera tripod and a computer setup of some sort. The theory - and it's only a theory until we can interrogate our survivor - is that they were using Callen and Nell for some kind of torture film. But now that we know Nell was..." he swallowed, unable to say that simple, if disturbing word. "...It was most likely a snuff film, and it's probably out there on the Internet for anyone with enough money to see."

"Have you..." Sam began, but Deeks beat him to it.

"Told Hetty? Yeah. That was a conversation I'd rather not have again. Like, ever. Eric's working on finding the footage now."

"Okay. Good work."

Deeks nodded his thanks. "You been to see her yet?"

The larger man shook his head. "Doc said she might not recognize us because of the trauma. Said I might intimidate her."

A small grin played on the surfer's lips. "You? Our resident teddy bear?"

Sam faked taking a swipe at him. "Go get a haircut, beach bum."

They shared a grin at last, and then Deeks used his thumb to gesture toward Nell's room. "Think I'll go try to talk to her."

Sam nodded. "Good luck. I'll be in here."

* * *

Deeks eased the door open and peeked inside. Nell was on the bed, her head propped up by three pillows and one more clutched to her chest. She looked so tiny there, all dressed in white on a white bed and covered by white sheets, her red hair the only real contrast inside the room. The TV was on, but though she stared at it he could tell she wasn't watching it at all.

Now that her face was clean, he could see the dark purple bruises blotching her cheeks, spreading all the way down her neck and even discoloring the milky white skin of her chest, and he suddenly wished he was in the Boat shed, taking off their suspect's fingers one at a time with a pair of rusty scissors. She must have heard the door open, for she slowly turned her head to look at him, her hazel eyes empty of all emotion. Disturbed by that but hiding it well, Deeks gave her a little smile and slipped into the room, careful not to come too close to her.

"Hey, Nell," he said softly. "How're you..."

He cut himself off, cursing his tongue. How did he think she was doing? She'd just suffered horrific torture at the hands of a bunch of sadistic psychopaths, all while her friend and team leader was forced to watch. How could he ever think she could answer that question with anything beside "Terrible" and "Kill me, please"?

"Can I get you anything?" He asked instead.

Nell looked at him blankly and then shook her head. She squeezed the pillow tighter, her eyes once more focusing on the TV, and Deeks blew out a sigh. He cautiously took a step closer, then lowered himself into the chair set a few feet from her bed.

"We're all glad to have you back," he said. "For a while there we were afraid, well..."

"That I was dead?" She asked, still looking at the TV. When he nodded she muttered, "If only."

"Hey," he said firmly but gently, and only then did she turn to look at him. "Don't do that, Nell. Please."

"I should be dead. If you knew what they did..."

"We know some of it. But you're strong, Nell. You'll get through it."

She regarded him silently for a moment. Then, standing beside the bed she put her hands on her scrub-covered hips, frowning darkly. "Get through it?" She asked. "You wanna see what I've got to 'get through'?"

"Um..." was all he could say before she turned away from him and pushed the scrub bottoms halfway down her legs. She was wearing underwear, so thankfully they were both spared that embarrassment. The backs of her thighs were so dark purple they looked black, and the bruises disappeared under the line of her panties so that he imagined it must hurt terribly to sit down. Turning around to face him again, she lifted the bottom of her scrub top so he had a clear view not only of her tiny belly button but also the deep cuts across her stomach and - yep, you guessed it - more bruises over her ribs.

"God, Nell," Deeks breathed, but she merely scowled and pulled her pants back up and crawled back onto the bed. She grabbed her thick pillow and held it close as before, her jaw clenching in a way that was disturbingly close to Callen's.

"I know he blames himself, but it wasn't his fault," she said after a long pause.

"Who? Callen?"

She nodded. "He tried so hard." Tears began to form in her eyes, turning them shiny. "He begged them to let me go."

"He didn't want to see you hurt. None of us do."

Finally, the tears burst forth with the force of a tidal wave, and Deeks forgot his apprehension and went to her. As she sobbed into her pillow he slid his arms around her and gently held her, relieved that she leaned her head against his shoulder rather than try to pull away.

"It's okay," he told her, closing his own blue eyes against the sting he felt develop behind them. "You're safe."

Standing in the doorway, her hand still on the door handle, Hetty Lange silently watched them. It was only a few moments, but she had seen enough. It would take time, but she was certain that Nell would make a full recovery from all her wounds. She closed the door and turned to the room across the hall, sighing heavily.

If only she could be so sure about Callen.

At least Nell had opened up a little. Not much, but enough to let Deeks begin to help. Callen, though, was still refusing to talk to anyone. Sam had tried, as had Kensi, but Callen remained silent about their kidnapping. Though she understood what the doctor had said about severe trauma, she knew Callen better than to think he was refusing to talk simply because he was still in shock. She had seen him endure torture before, had bound his wounds and waited until the inevitable happened and he broke down and talked himself hoarse. This, whatever had happened this time, had shaken him so deeply that she feared he would never come back from that dark place, the one he had made to let himself heal at his own pace until he felt he could trust again.

Kensi and Deeks had relayed to her the events of Callen's - and Nell's - rescue, of how detached and empty he had seemed, and she would be lying if she said it didn't scare the hell out of her. Callen was first and foremost a professional, and an agent. It was not like him to leave the rest of his team in the dark - unless, of course, he had retreated to Survival Mode, or as Sam called it, "Lone Wolf Syndrome." Hetty disliked those moments, the manufactured solitude he put himself into. Alone, he was able to survive, yes, but with his team, he thrived. Before her eyes he became the agent - the man - she always knew he would be. She'd be damned if she allowed someone to ruin that.

Standing in the doorway of his room now, she saw the hollowness of his eyes and knew that the wall had gone up. He was protecting himself.

"Mr. Callen," she said in her usual brusque tone, as if they had just come off a normal, run-of-the-mill Op.

He looked up from staring at his hands, and his eyes were so miserable if she had been a weaker person she would have burst into tears.

"Hetty," he replied, her name sounding the same as "Mom" did on a child's lips.

She moved to his bedside and inspected the bandage on his arm, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "Sloppy," she remarked. Eyeing him, she asked, "Did you squirm around as usual?"

He shook his head. "Must've been out cold for that one." Peering into her eyes, he said, "I need to see Nell."

"I'm not sure that's wise," she told him, and he visibly pouted, not caring who saw. "I can assure you, however, that she is doing just fine."

"She's not fine!" He cried again, and Sam flinched despite his size. Hetty, however, did not. "Stop saying that! You didn't see...You weren't there..."

He gave up, flopping back against the pillows. Turning his face away from them, he said, "She's not fine, and it's because of me."

Hetty turned to Sam and Kensi to ask them for privacy, but they were already quietly shuffling out into the hall. _Bless them_ , she thought with eyes raised to the ceiling; they always seemed to know just what to do.

Turning back to Callen, she put her hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch.

"G," she said, forgoing her usual 'Callen' to instead use the more personal name she only reserved for those moments when she was feeling particularly maternal. "Look at me."

Hesitantly, he obeyed, and she observed a tear fall from his soft lashes to roll down the side of his nose. She reached up and brushed it away, then laid her hand against his stubbled cheek. He blinked slowly, seemingly trying to decide whether this was all a dream or not.

"Whatever you are feeling, whatever those people did, you are not doing Nell any justice by keeping silent about it. Now, I know you are hurting and afraid, but you are forgetting that there are people who are ready to help, who are hurting along with you both."

She lightly patted his face and then pulled away to adjust the blanket covering his legs. When she was satisfied she turned to leave, but he cleared his throat and said, "Hetty?"

"Yes?" She asked, her hand already on the doorknob.

"I killed one of them. I choked him."

She nodded. "I know."

He swallowed hard and added, "I...I watched it happen, and I...I _liked_ it. He hurt Nell, and he made me..." he cut his gaze away, clearly not ready to divulge that much yet. "All I wanted was to see him dead."

Hetty remained silent, though she did come back over to the bed and sit down beside him, her hand placed over his.

"All I could think about was what he'd done to her, and so when I had him on the ground I felt...nothing. I felt empty. Cold." He looked up at her with fear in his eyes. "It scared me. I don't know what's happening inside me, Hetty."

"What you did is completely natural when one has endured torture," she told him. "Besides, you were fighting for both of your lives. Do not fool yourself into thinking that that man would not have killed you both." She squeezed his hand. "You did what you had to do, and that is all."

"But..."

Hetty shook her head. "Mr. Callen, you were protecting your family. Sometimes deadly force is not only allowable, but necessary. You, of all people, should know that. Now, get some rest. I need you back as soon as possible, and you putting yourself through mental stress will not help with that."

She waited until he was comfortable, and with a last brush of her hand over his short hair she left to join the others in the hall. Deeks had come out of Nell's room then, and now he leaned against the wall, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling with a look that Hetty could only describe as despair.

"Will he ever snap out of this, Hetty?" Sam asked her.

She nodded. "He will indeed, Mr. Hanna. But I fear it will take an ungodly amount of patience of all of our parts."

"Hey, I've been his partner for five years. If that's not patience I don't know what is."

She reached up and patted his wide chest. "That, it is. I take it, then, that you're staying to watch over him?"

Sam nodded. "I'll run checks on Nell, too."

"Very well." Her phone buzzed then, as did the agents', and she pulled it open to find a message from Eric there.

"Looks like Eric found the movie," Deeks said, looking at the matching text on his phone.

"Let's go," Kensi said, but Hetty shook her head.

"No, Ms. Blye. You and Mr. Deeks go to the Boatshed and talk to our suspect. I will go back to Ops alone."

"But..." Kensi began, falling silent when her partner took her arm and led her away, a grim look on his face.

"On our way," he told Hetty. He continued to pull Kensi down the halls, and only when they were far enough away did she yank out of his grasp and glower at him.

"What the hell, Deeks?" She hissed.

"This is one battle you can't fight, Kens."

"That video is our only lead on who these people are."

"And it's a graphic account of what Nell and Callen went through."

She nodded. "Right."

"Right," he echoed. "Think about this. What if that was you on that tape? Would you want everyone on the team to watch it?"

"If it helped you find them..."

He scowled and kicked at a wastebasket nearby, sending it down the hall past her. "Just stop, Kens!" He cried. "If you found out we watched that tape it would devastate you! It's bad enough that Callen was forced to watch Nell being beaten...you don't think she'd be humiliated if she knew we all saw? And what about how he'd feel? Those images are burned in his mind, Kensi. He's going to play them over and over, for the rest of his life. Why in the hell would he want anyone else to have to suffer the same fate?"

He took a breath, rubbing a hand through his shaggy blond hair. "I saw the bruises on her body, Kens. I saw the fear in her eyes. I don't need to see what's on the tape to know that it was horrifying. Hetty gave us our orders, and we're gonna follow them."

"Okay," she agreed. "But what if the suspect won't talk?"

Marty shrugged. "I've had a little practice with advanced interrogation. He'll talk."

She wasn't sure she liked how dark his tone had become, but she wasn't about to question it. Right now there were more urgent things to deal with. As he stalked out to the parking ramp, she jogged to catch up. Falling into step beside him, she said, "You're right, Deeks."

"Yeah? Bout what?"

"About the tape. I would...it would mess me up if it was me."

"Okay."

She reached over and grabbed his jacket, pulling him around to face her. "If that ever...if something like that ever happens...Promise me you won't watch."

"Kensi..." he began, but she shook him once.

"Promise me, Deeks."

Gently prying her fist from his jacket, he nodded down at her, his eyes serious. "I promise."

She scrutinized his eyes, determining his honesty, and then nodded back. "Okay."

They found the car and got in, the doors slamming making an echo in the ramp around them. Deeks put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot, then drove out of the ramp and headed for the waterfront. Kensi was silent the whole time and it worried him, though for now he rationalized it by telling himself she was worried for their friends. A deeper part of him - one that sounded terrifyingly similar to Hetty - told him that wasn't all there was to it, but at this point he wasn't ready to explore it any further.

Soon, absolutely, but not now.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN:_** _Hey, guys! How're you liking it_ _so far? So a few things..._

 _1\. I have fallen in LOVE with Granger. I just...I won't spoil things for those of you who might not know, but I miss him on the show._

 _2\. There's a few rough scenes ahead, nothing graphic yet, but if you're sensitive you might wanna skip it. Just FYI._

 _Anyhow, share your love in the comments!_

* * *

Chapter 3

 _Chained to the wall, his eye stuck shut with the blood that poured from his forehead, Callen forced himself to stay awake. A few feet away, with only a tarp beneath her as protection from the cement floor, he could make out the form of Nell Jones. Her back was facing him, her hands and legs bound, and she lay curled up in a fetal position as she shivered in the cold night air. He wished someone would come and cover her with a blanket or something. He didn't want to see her get hypothermia or..._

 _Callen's head snapped up from sagging on his chest, and he felt his skull connect with the cinder blocks behind him. Licking dry, cracked lips, he focused on the pain in his head, letting it keep him awake._

 _There was a noise nearby, a click like a deadbolt unlocking, and it snapped Nell back to full consciousness like the flip of a switch. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked around wildly. When she saw Callen's form nearby, she tried to move toward him but her bonds made that impossible._

 _"Nell," he croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Nell, it's okay."_

 _"They're coming," she told him, her voice small and full of fear._

 _"I know. But you need to stay calm."_

 _She shook her head, tears glistening in her hazel eyes. "I can't. Can't do it again."_

 _As the five strange men entered the room, Callen caught Nell's gaze with his own._

 _"Nell, please."_

 _She just started to cry, and his heart broke all over again..._

Callen jerked awake, fully expecting to feel the metal of the handcuffs around his wrists, but instead found himself in a bed, unrestrained. In a chair beside the bed, Sam slept with his arms crossed over his chest, but when he heard the sheets rustle he was immediately awake, one eye cracked open.

"G?"

"Bad dream," Callen replied in a whisper. "I'm good."

Sam nodded and closed his eye again. Callen lay back against the pillows and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless.

After about a dozen sighs and sheet rustles, Sam asked, "Can't sleep?"

"No," Callen huffed. Sam shifted and then sat up, his chocolate eyes staring directly into Callen's. Callen knew that look all too well, and he sighed again. "You want me to talk."

"No," Sam said, "I'd _like_ it if you talked, but it's gotta be your choice."

"If you knew what happened..."

Sam leaned forward and put his hand on Callen's arm. "None of it matters, G. You were tortured, injured. Nothing that happened was your fault."

"But it is," Callen insisted. "I could've stopped it, but I..." He looked away, but not before Sam saw the same guilty look he'd had outside the warehouse.

"G. Look at me, G."

Callen finally obeyed, his blue eyes finding Sam's.

"I won't push you," Sam told him. "This is all in your control. Just know I'm here."

Callen nodded. "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a long while, lost in their own thoughts. It was daylight outside; Callen estimated that it was around 10 or 11 in the morning, and by the sounds of the traffic down below his window he guessed that it was Friday. Fridays were always busy in LA, even after the morning rush.

"How long was it?" He asked Sam then.

"Four days," Sam answered.

Callen nodded. His count had been slightly off while he and Nell had been held, but only by a day.

"You remember them grabbing you?" He heard Sam ask.

Oh, he remembered, all right.

Staring at the wall over Sam's head, he said, "Yeah. It was after we'd all gone out. When I took Nell home..."

 _He was pretty sure she was drunk, but she looked like she was having so much fun he let her be, choosing to simply watch her from where he stood on the edge of the dance floor. She and Kensi were dancing together, trying to keep up with each other's moves but failing miserably. Nevertheless, they were laughing and still trying, their bodies loosely moving to the beat. Only when Nell's limbs got tangled with Kensi's and they both fell down did Deeks and Callen set down their beers and go out to de-pretzel the girls._

 _Callen managed to get Nell to her feet and started to lead her off the floor. Pouting, she looked up at him and said, "What're ya doin'? I was havin' fun."_

 _He smiled. "I know. But I think you should take a little break."_

 _"We almost had it. Did you see us?"_

 _"I did. Here," he said, handing her a bottled water. "Drink some of this."_

 _Staring at the liquid in the bottle as if it was some alien substance, she slowly unscrewed the cap and took a sip._

 _"It's water," she told him, her voice full of disappointment, and he nodded._

 _"I know. Keep drinking."_

 _She hopped up onto a bar stool, though it took her three tries, and Callen stood beside her nursing the same beer he'd ordered an hour ago. To be honest he didn't feel much like drinking tonight. He had come along with the others in a bid to stave off boredom and the slim finger of depression he felt pressing on his brain, but he had to admit that hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped._

 _At least not until he'd started watching Nell._

 _Her smile and giggle were contagious, lifting his spirit out of the dark gutter it tended to seek out like a wounded animal looked for a den to hide in. It helped that her emerald green top and tight black pants looked amazing on her, as well, and her red hair fell loose and soft around her shoulders, tempting him to run his hand through it._

 _An arm was thrown around his neck then, and that very same hair pressed against his cheek, warm and smelling like flowers._

 _"You okay?" She asked, sounding almost sober, and he nodded._

 _"Yep. How 'bout you?"_

 _"Little dizzy, but okay," she replied with a tiny giggle._

 _As if to prove it, she hopped down from the stool and tried to walk. Not quite three steps later, her knees buckled and if he hadn't been beside her she would've fallen. As she tipped into his arms, Callen gave a wry smile and said, "Okay. Time to go."_

 _Nell pouted again, and Callen fought the urge to touch his finger to her heart-shaped mouth._

 _"I don't wanna go yet," she argued, but when she looked up into his serious blue eyes and saw that he wouldn't take no for an answer, she groaned and let him lead her toward the door._

 _Callen meanwhile had caught Deeks' eye and now the blond detective moved toward them, a good-natured grin on his handsome face._

 _"Leavin' so soon?" He asked, and Callen nodded._

 _"Nell's had a little too much. I'm gonna take her home."_

 _Deeks nodded back and gave Callen's hand a quick shake. "See you tomorrow."_

 _"Sure. Tell Kens I said goodbye."_

 _"And me, too!" Nell put in, her arm still draped around Callen's neck the only thing keeping her upright._

 _Deeks leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. "I will. Night, Nell."_

 _Her eyes blinked slowly as she waved her fingers at him and said, "Night."_

 _Callen led her to his car and put her in the passenger seat, even buckling the seat belt around her slender body. As he came around the hood and slid into his seat, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, sighing softly. He watched her a few moments to be sure she wasn't about to be sick, and when he saw no indication of that he started the car and headed for her apartment. They drove in silence the whole way there, and it wasn't until Callen had parked in front of her building that he realized she'd fallen asleep. Getting out, he went around to her side and opened the door, then gently shook her shoulder._

 _"Nell?" He called softly. "Nell, we're here."_

 _She moaned, then slowly stirred and opened her eyes. "Huh?" She asked, her eyelids fluttering._

 _He grinned at the confused look she was giving him. "You're home. Gimme your keys and I'll go open your door."_

 _It took a moment, but finally she understood his request and dug her keys out of her purse. Handing them to him, she said, "It's the one with pink nail polish on it."_

 _He took the keys and went to her door while she stayed in the car, her eyes closed against the dizziness she felt. Finding the right key, he slipped it into the lock and opened the door, then flipped on the hallway light and took a quick look around. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place, so he jogged back out to the car and helped Nell to her feet, slowly walking her up the path to her door._

 _"You're sweet to do this," she told him with a shy smile._

 _"It's no trouble," he replied as he guided her inside and shut the door. "Just wanna be sure you're safe."_

 _Her smile grew wider at that. She opened her mouth to reply when a shadow suddenly fell over both of them, and before Callen could turn to find the source he was hit in the head with something heavy. As his vision swam and then went black, he heard Nell scream, and then everything was silent._

* * *

Hetty walked into OPS, but Eric's usual seat was empty, his workstation shut off and the screen black. She was about to go find him when she heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. Turning, she saw her very pale IT expert shuffling toward her, his skin waxy and a little green.

"Mr. Beale, are you all right?" She asked.

He shook his head slowly, but said nothing.

"You watched the footage," she stated, now sure of the reason behind his sickly state.

He nodded. "It's..." Blue eyes regarded her from behind plastic-framed glasses. "I can't even..."

"Were you able to glean any information from the video itself?

Another nod, and a heaving breath to calm his stomach. "They speak a dialect of Russian. Probably Siberian, though a lot of it's muddled with common Russian so it's hard to understand."

"What about the file? Who it was meant for? And why were Callen and Miss Jones chosen?"

"The sender's IP address was spoofed, so until I do a little more, uh, work...we won't know much. I'd love to get right on that, but..."

He coughed, trying not to throw up in front of her, and she nodded sympathetically.

"Go on and rest a while, Eric," she said. "It will still be here tomorrow."

"Unfortunately," he muttered, then held up a hand in thanks and rabbited off, probably to the restroom again.

Hetty stood alone in the dimly lit room, so deep in thought that she failed to hear Owen Granger enter behind her until he had called her name.

"Bugger it all!" She hissed as she spun to face him. Granger was the one surprised now. Never before had he been able to sneak up on Hetty. Something had to be terribly, horribly wrong.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Perhaps you could help me, Owen," she said, pulling out Eric's chair. "I need to bring up a file Mr. Beale was looking at earlier."

Granger seemed skeptical, but sat down anyway. He started up the computer and turned on the screen, and when everything was booted up he went into the folder marked "Recent Downloads". Nodding, he said, "There's a video file downloaded today. That the one you want?"

"Yes, thank you," Hetty replied. Once he had highlighted it with the mouse, she said, "You may leave now."

Granger paused, then swiveled to look up at her. "Are you going to let me in on this?"

"Perhaps one day, Owen. But this material is both sensitive and graphic in nature..."

"You should know that I'm already aware of Agent Callen and Miss Jones' capture," he told her. "I don't know all the specifics, of course, but I'm guessing that's what this is about." Gone was his usual business-like tone, and in its place was a gentleness that she had to admit surprised her. She never imagined that the man seated before her had such a capacity for empathy, and before she realized what she was doing she pulled a chair alongside his.

"Very well," she said. "Please play the video."

 _At least_ , she reasoned silently, _I won't have to suffer alone..._

 _The screen jumped to life, the image blurry and dark. Both issues were corrected fairly quickly, and what was once just blobs of green and blue became Nell Jones, lying atop a tarp placed on the ground. Not far away, a pair of jean-clad legs could be seen, ending in a set of black workboots._

 _Callen's workboots._

 _The camera shook as if whoever was holding it was fiddling with the controls, and then the image zoomed out and panned slightly to the left, so that Callen's full frame could be seen as well. Footsteps could be heard, and another man entered the picture, his face holding a self-satisfied grin as he took in the sight before him. He stepped over Nell's legs, which she instinctively pulled closer to the rest of her body, and sidled up to where Callen stood with his arms bound by a chain over his head._

 _In contrast to the stranger's smile, Callen scowled darkly - not back at the man but at the camera - his fists clenched so tightly his hands turned white. "Let her go," he ground out. "She has nothing to do with this. It's me you want."_

 _The man beside him laughed. "Why would you think that?" He asked in heavily accented English._

 _Callen looked at Nell and then up at the man. "She's not...I don't know what this is about, but..."_

 _The stranger chuckled again and pushed himself away from the wall with his elbow. "She is part of this, like you."_

 _"No. Look..."_

 _"No, you look," the dark haired man interrupted. "You do what we ask, maybe you both leave alive. If not..." he shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished and yet perfectly clear in meaning._

 _Callen glared at him. "We're federal agents. You kill us and our friends will track you down." He looked around the room and added, "All of you."_

 _A chorus of laughter filled the room._

 _"I think not," their captor replied. "Now, will you help, or must we...convince you?"_

 _Callen glanced down at Nell, who remained silent but regarded him with fearful eyes. He seemed to be weighing his options for a moment, but then his jaw clenched and he said, "Go to hell."_

 _The man's grin faded from his lips, and he nodded at someone to Callen's left._

 _"Very well," he sneered. "We will go hard way." He turned to Nell then, and said, "Boyfriend is...stubborn, eh?"_

 _She watched as another man - the one their kidnapper had nodded to, no doubt - came closer, and her eyes widened as he lifted his arm and leveled a gun at Callen's body. "No," she murmured, panic obvious in the way she tried to scramble to her feet despite the zipties binding her. "Please, don't."_

 _"Nell," Callen used his warning voice, though it seemed a tad more gentle than usual. "Stay cool."_

 _The shot was loud, and yet it was barely audible above Nell's scream of horror and Callen's shout of pain. Blood poured from the wound in his leg, soaking through the denim, and as he gasped in three or four breaths to try and control the searing pain he still managed to stare daggers at their captors._

 _Laughter could be heard once more, louder this time, and then the scene faded to black._

Granger pressed the Pause button and looked at Hetty. "Exactly how long is this video?"

"Why?" She asked. "Are you bored already?"

He shook his head. "Just wondering whether I should cancel my dinner plans with Director Vance."

"I had no idea he was in town."

"Neither did I, until a few hours ago."

"Oh, well. If Mr. Beale's reaction after viewing this is anything to go by, that might be a wise idea, regardless."

He narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to ascertain her level of humor, but when her face remained static he breathed out a sigh, pulled out his cell phone and sent off a quick text.

"You sure you want to continue with this?" He asked, and she nodded at once.

"I need to know, Owen. These people...I wish you would have seen the look in Mr. Callen's eyes at the hospital. It was..."

She shivered, and Granger only nodded in reply.

Wordlessly, he pushed PLAY again.

 _The sound returned first, but there was so much noise that it was hard to understand just what was happening without a picture. There were voices, or at least they seemed to be, though no particular words could be distinguished, and a sound like slow clapping, but that couldn't be right. Then, finally, Callen's voice could be heard screaming curse words, and then the picture suddenly returned and everything made sense._

 _The camera was focused on the floor, where Nell was curled up in a ball on her side, her hands covering her face. Above her stood the leader, landing heavy blows on every part of her body. With each hit Nell cried out, and with each cry the man only hit her harder. Barely visible at the edge of the screen, Callen strained at his shackles, his face beet red and slashed by a deep frown as he shouted orders at him to stop, at the rest of the men to stop him, but of course no one listened._

 _Eventually, one of the other men tired of hearing him, and hit him in the head hard enough to knock him unconscious. His head lolled forward onto his chest and his legs went limp, the chain now the only thing supporting his body._

 _The man hitting Nell finally stopped as well, and shot an amused glance at Callen's slack form. He clucked his tongue, and slowly Nell unfolded herself to see what had happened. When she saw her friend and leader hanging there, unconscious, she instantly began to vibrate with fear, and for good reason. Backing away, the leader motioned for someone to come forward. A tall man with a ponytail moved into frame, his hands already unbuckling his pants..._

After another ten minutes of what Hetty could only define as pure horror for Nell - and eventually Callen as well as he soon came to - she hoarsely whispered, "Stop, Owen. I've seen enough."

Relieved, Granger clicked the STOP button and then turned off the monitor, though it made no real difference. The images were already burned into their brains, the sounds tattooed in their ears. She spun away from him, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were trying to physically hold herself together.

Owen stood silently and waited, intent on staying until she kicked him out. Physically, if need be.

"Oh, Owen," Hetty's gravel voice stumbled over his name, and he realized she was crying. "Those two...God..."

"Whatever you need, you have it," he said, anger edging his voice. How dare anyone hurt his people like that, and how dare they make Hetty - superspy, ninja and all-around badass - cry! "You could string the last suspect up on the Golden Gate and I'd look the other way. Find out what you can and then make his sorry ass disappear."

Still refusing to let him see her face, she nodded and said, "Thank you, Owen."

"Despite what you all think, even I value a dose of retribution now and then." He walked to the french doors and opened them, then turned back and added, "Tell Callen and Ms. Jones I wish them well."

"Of course," Hetty assured him.

He shut the doors and she sank to the floor, utterly devastated and yet grateful that he had allowed her to fall apart in private. Now she understood Callen's guilt, though it was still misplaced, as well as his reluctance to talk about everything. She saw the parallels between his capture and his years as a foster child, and her heart broke for both the boy and the man inside him.

And finally, watching the video she understood something else. These men, these terrible monsters, had done something no one had ever been able to do before: they had destroyed him. Just as sure as she was that Nell would make it, she was certain that Callen, her Callen, was lost, and this time he might never make it back.

This alone was what brought her to her knees in the Computer Lab, her heart so full of despair that she feared it would cease to beat again. Tears raining down her wrinkled cheeks, she mourned the loss of the only one she had ever considered her son.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Kensi and Deeks stood in the main room of the Boatshed, watching the suspect from the surveillance camera placed in the interrogation room. Currently, he was drumming on the table, though it was less a nervous habit and more out of pure boredom.

"How should we play this?" Kensi asked, biting her thumbnail.

Deeks glowered at the monitor. "How 'bout, we're friends of the people they took and if he doesn't spill his guts we spill 'em for him?"

She looked at him, dark eyes wide, but when he remained serious she left him in that dark place and simply said, "Okay." Truthfully, she was just as angry and anxious to know what the suspect knew, and she wasn't about to wait for him to cooperate, either.

"If things get messy and Granger finds out..." Deeks began, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"He won't."

"Are we really gonna do this?"

She took a breath. "If you don't want to, I'll go in alone..."

He shook his blond hair. "No. It's just that...last time I did something like this the man I tortured ended up being innocent."

Her dark gaze regarded him, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Except we know this one isn't."

Deeks nodded. "Right."

"Ready?"

Another nod. "Ready."

Deeks entered Interrogation alone, and stood on the other side of the table. The seated man stared up at him with a smirk.

"What's your name?" Deeks asked.

The smirk remained.

"Who do you work for?"

No reaction.

"You're the only one left. All your friends are dead."

Still nothing.

"Okay, fine," Deeks said, pulling the door open so Kensi could walk in. "We'll do this the hard way."

That, at least, got some kind of response.

Leaning forward, the man said, "I know my rights. I want a lawyer."

Kensi stuck out her bottom lip. "Well, well. He speaks English."

"Yeah," Deeks replied, "and with no trace of an accent, either. Could we be lucky enough to have left the only American member of the group alive?"

"What're the odds?" His partner wondered aloud.

"I don't have to say anything to you," the suspect taunted. "And you can't make me."

Deeks glared at him. "Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?"

The man pointed up at the black globe containing the surveillance camera. "This is being recorded. You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me, or you'd be charged with police brutality."

"He's right, y'know," Kensi said to Deeks. "Well, sort of."

"He would be, if he was arrested by the LAPD. Too bad he was caught by NCIS, and is being held as a domestic terrorist."

Kensi looked at the man and lifted her shoulders in a silent "Oh, well."

"So," Deeks said, "let's try this again. What's your name?"

"Domestic terrorist?" The suspect cried, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. "I didn't commit any terrorist act!"

Quickly losing patience, the normally easygoing surfer slammed his hands on the table and bored his eyes into the other man's face.

"You and your freshly-dead friends took _our_ two friends - federal agents - and beat them, all while videotaping it for sale on the black market! If you don't start giving me the names of your clients, I'm gonna start carving my friends' names onto your chest with a razor blade, so start talking!"

The man finally seemed shaken. His eyes wide, he looked to Kensi for help, but she simply stared back, her eyes cold.

"But...but the camera..." he stammered.

"No one's monitoring it," Deeks informed him. "And once we're done here, whether it gets messy or not, the tape is gonna disappear. Whether you disappear along with it is up to you."

"I...I don't..."

"Names!" Deeks shouted. "Starting with yours!"

"Okay!" The man cried, cowering in his seat as best he could. "My name is Gary Brown..."

* * *

The door opened, and when Nell saw Callen shuffling through it she jumped up and ran to meet him. If Sam hadn't been there to put a steadying hand on his back he would've fallen over when she threw her arms around him, her face buried against his starched white top.

"I know," he murmured into her hair. "I was scared for you, too."

"I keep having this dream that you died," she said, her voice muffled by his clothing. "And then I wake up here alone..."

He held her at arms' length and gazed down into her hazel eyes. "You don't have to be, Nell. I won't leave you alone, ever again."

"Whoa," Sam said then. " I know you wanna protect her, but..."

"Not even up for debate, Sam," Callen stated. "I'm moving into this room, today."

"G."

"Sam?" It was a challenge, and even with his weakened state Sam knew better than to push Callen any farther.

Sighing, Sam threw up his hands. "I'll go find someone to move your stuff."

Callen led Nell back to her bed and helped her climb back into it. He tried to pull her covers up over her but the motion hurt the bullet wound in his arm and he cradled it to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Nell watched with wide eyes, her own heart aching for him. He looked better than he had when they were rescued - physically, anyway - but his eyes had lost their spark, and when she'd hugged him he'd felt stiff. He'd never been one to show much physical affection, but now he felt terrified by her touch, almost as if he were preparing to bolt. She hated it. Hated those men and what they'd done. They'd hurt her, but what they'd done to Callen was ten times worse. Even thinking about it in such a vague way made her stomach turn. He hadn't deserved it - any of it - and if there had been any way for her to spare him from it, she would have done so in a heartbeat.

But it was done, and now she was staring at the aftermath of it all.

"Sit," she quietly said, scooting over to make room. Callen considered it for a moment and then sank onto the narrow bed beside her, his right leg hanging off the side. He was careful not to let too much of his body touch hers, and she tried to do the same simply to put him at ease even though every fiber of her being wanted to put her arms around him, to feel his around her as well.

"Y'know what the worst part is?" She asked him. He shook his head. "It's the stuff they do here. The pictures and the exam and the pills. They try to make you feel okay, but it's still just as invasive and violating. I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go."

Unsure of which situation she meant by that last sentence, Callen nodded and said, "I know how that feels."

She ducked her head timidly, recalling his past, and they both fell silent, staring emptily at the program on TV. They were still that way when Sam returned with news that Callen's room change had been granted. He was about to sit down with them when his cell phone rang, and he went out into the hall to answer it.

"What've you got, Kensi?" He asked after seeing the caller ID.

"Our suspect talked. We got the names of all those who paid to receive the video, as well as the head of the whole operation."

Sam felt his insides leap for joy. "Good. Go get 'em, Xena."

She chuckled into his ear and then asked, "How's Callen?"

Sam poked his head in to glance at the pair on the bed. "Same as before, only he's not whining about being with Nell anymore."

"He forced you to move him, didn't he?"

The SEAL flinched as if he'd been hit. "How'd you know?"

"He's still protecting her. It makes sense he would wanna be as close to her as possible."

"Yeah, well, he's still a major pain in the ass."

"I know," she said sympathetically. "I'll be there soon to take over the watch. Need anything?"

Sam grimaced more for his own benefit since she couldn't see him. "Tranquilizers. And duct tape."

She just laughed. "See you soon."

He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket, then went back into the room only to see Nell fast asleep, curled up on her bed with pillows - most likely put there by Callen - surrounding her body. Callen himself flipped endlessly through the channels, but when he saw Sam standing there he said, "She's exhausted."

"You look pretty wiped yourself," his partner told him. "Maybe take a cue from her?"

Callen shook his head. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Sam parroted. "What're you waiting for?"

"It doesn't matter."

It took every ounce of patience Sam possessed to drop the subject right there. He recalled what Hetty had said about giving Callen time, and he was trying, he really was. But this was a whole lot harder than simply getting Callen to talk about his childhood or his undercover marriage to Tracy. This pain was fresh, and so deep it cut to Callen's very soul. It was going to take some extensive therapy to regain what had been taken from him, and even then he might never be the same as he was before. Sam didn't care about that. He just wanted to see his partner smile again, and if that meant he got dragged through the depths of Hell, well then, he'd go get the marshmallows.

* * *

 _It wasn't the beatings that were the worst. She could block them out eventually by going limp and sending her mind someplace else. The sad part of that was she had learned how to do it simply from these sessions. The leader of this merry band of miscreants was always the one who beat her. He used his fists for the most part, but when he tired of that he would pick up a broomstick and use it instead. She always heard Callen's protests, far off in the back of her mind, and even that she could live with. It was pretty much expected for him to beg for mercy - not for himself, never for himself - since he was the team leader. In fact, if he didn't put up a fight the men would have wondered why._

 _The worst part wasn't even being raped. That, too, she could block out, and often did especially after the first time. It always came after the beating, when she was bruised and weak, her muscles still twitching from the nerves being overworked. The second in command, a tall man with a ponytail, was the one to perform this vile act upon her. That was something she noticed and filed away for later - each of the five men had a specific role to play, and in the three? five? days she and Callen were kept they never deviated from these roles. It was almost as if the entire operation was scripted, the five men simply actors playing their parts. If it hadn't been so horrible, it would've been amusing._

 _The first time...Ah, yes. The beating ended, and the leader looked at Callen, who was knocked unconscious so that only his shackled arms kept him upright. Clucking his tongue, he jerked his head toward her prone form, and so the second-in-command held her down and forced himself on her. She tried to fight, but he was strong - about as muscular as Sam and even taller than him. It went on for what seemed like an hour, and then slowly Callen came to and realized what was happening._

 _He struggled against his chains at once, throwing curses as he nearly broke his arms trying to get free. Nell had long since decided to lay still - the equivalent of playing dead. She made the mistake, however, of turning her head at just the wrong time and catching a noseful of the man's musky cologne mixed with the bitter tang of her own blood, and before she could warn him she threw up on both him and herself. It wasn't much as she hadn't had any food in almost a day and a half, but it was enough to anger him to the point that he slammed her head against the ground and knocked her out. From that time on, she was careful to keep her eyes closed and her head turned to the side, some part of her mind hearing Callen string together every swear word and death threat he could think of in every language he knew._

 _And now, she came to understand the worst part of this whole ordeal. It was happening again - she was lying there with her eyes closed trying to send herself far away when something - a noise, maybe? - made her open them again. She found herself staring at Callen's face, and the look in his blue eyes finally made her break down. It was like looking at the eyes of a child orphaned by war - shell-shocked and desolate of any hope, left alone with no idea what to do next. Forgetting her own situation, she only wished to run to him, to throw her arms around him and tell him it was all okay. It didn't matter that it wasn't, she just wanted him to stop looking like that._

When Nell started awake a while later, the sky outside her hospital room window was dark. Likewise, her room lights had been dimmed until they were barely there, the only illumination coming from her TV. A documentary about fish was currently playing there, the narrator's voice a dull contrast to the brightly colored fish darting through the turquoise ocean. She felt eyes watching her and turned her head sharply to the left, then let out the breath she had been holding.

"Callen," she sighed. "I thought..."

"Didn't mean to scare you," he said by way of apology, but she shook her head.

"It's okay."

He noticed her wince as she moved to sit up, and he leaned forward and asked, "Need help?"

She gave another shake of her head. "No, I'm okay."

To prove it, she braced her hands on either side of the thin mattress and slowly pushed herself up. She held her breath to keep from crying out as her ribs protested even the slightest movement, but she refused to let Callen see how much pain she was in. He felt guilty enough as it was; seeing her struggle - or worse, admit defeat - would do nothing to help him. In fact, it might even push him over the edge, and she would absolutely not do that to him.

Once she was upright, she relaxed into her pillows and pulled her blanket up over her chest, then chanced a look at him. Despite her attempt, his eyes took on that look of guilt and defeat, so she turned away to stare at the TV.

"Did Sam go home?" She asked, desperate to break the silence.

She heard rather than saw him shift in his chair. "We could only be so lucky. He's wandering around out there somewhere. Said something about looking for good coffee."

She allowed herself a small smile. "He's just worried about you."

"Us."

She wrinkled her brow. "Hmm?"

"He's worried about _us_ ," he said again.

"Oh."

"Kensi says hi, by the way."

Now she turned back to him, her eyes wide. "She was here?"

Callen nodded.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"She tried to wake you, but you were too wiped out." He leaned back and grabbed something from her side table. As he handed her a card, he said, "She left this for you."

He moved again, and the light over her bed brightened enough so she could see the card. On the front was a watercolor field of flowers in various shades of pink and purple, and the inside was originally blank but now carried Kensi's flowing penmanship.

"Nell," she read aloud, "Sorry I couldn't stay long, but Callen and Sam will take good care of you. I'll be around tomorrow. Love you, Kensi. PS, enjoy the Oreo's."

She looked up at Callen in confusion, but only for a moment until he handed her a small package of cookies. Smiling, she took them and set them on her lap.

"Your favorite," he noted, and she nodded.

She went back to watching the documentary, simultaneously enjoying and fearing the silence between them. She could almost feel Callen pulling away emotionally and she hated it, but she felt powerless to stop it from happening. Everything she wanted to say fizzled on her tongue before she could even open her mouth, and so she blankly stared at the television, tears pricking her eyelids but refusing to fall.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN:_** _Sorry it took SO long to update, guys! I've got a lot on my plate lately. Thankfully, I have most of this story written already, so all I've been needing to do is fill in a few places and rearrange some parts, so it hasn't been taking as long as it could. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Another should be on the way shortly!_

* * *

Chapter 5

Standing outside the iron fence of a well-manicured house on a dead-end street, Deeks secured his tac vest and checked his weapon for what Kensi thought was the tenth time. She was impatiently checking her watch, sending nervous glances toward the house their suspects were holed up in and hoping that everything from here on out went smoothly. _Which almost never happened_ , the cynic in her said.

Still, a girl could dream.

"Ready?" She asked Deeks.

"Yeah. You?"

"As I can be," she replied.

He nodded, so she looked to the rest of the team and repeated the question. Another agent, a slightly older man with salt-and-pepper hair and bright green eyes nodded as well. She knew his surname was Sterling, but for the life of her she could not recall his first name. He was ruggedly handsome, in a lumberjack kind of way - with a well-kept beard and thick biceps, and though his graying hair and laugh lines around his eyes showed his age she had to admit that they fit him. He reminded her of everyone's favorite uncle, the one who snuck you out for ice cream in your pajamas and brought you flowers after a big school play.

"We'll go around back," he told her. "We breach on your count."

"Sounds good," she replied. "Click when you're in position."

He gestured to the other two men in the team and in his rich baritone said, "Burke, Shaw. With me."

The men followed him, ducking through a hedge at the edge of the fence and sneaking around the side of the house. Once they were out of sight, Deeks and Kensi started for the front door. Keeping low, they crept forward up the sidewalk, and Kensi's first thought was that she wished Callen was there with them. He always knew just what to do, and he could improvise at the drop of a hat. He was a natural born leader, and she was instantly at ease whenever he was there.

But he wasn't, she told herself, and the reasons why were inside this house, hiding like cockroaches.

Just as she reached the top stair of the porch, the radio in her ear clicked twice. She looked at Deeks and saw him nod, and then she tapped her radio twice in response. They went to either side of the door, Deeks on the left and she on the right, and she glanced in through the window to get a basic feel of what they were getting into.

"Hey," Deeks said in a low voice, and she looked at him.

"What?" Her tone was a slight bit snappy, her nerves jangling and just ready to get this over with. No matter how many times they did this she always felt the same way, and she wondered if that would ever change, if she would be as cool as Callen seemed during an op.

Deeks ignored the attitude and held up five fingers, and she nodded. Five suspects inside. Then he held up four fingers. Four of them were armed. That was fine. Perfect, actually. Sterling's team could get two when they came through the back, and she and Deeks could take out the other two from the front.

She reached out and tried the door handle, but it was locked.

Of course it was.

Deeks tipped his head a little, telling her to back away, and she complied. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and took a step sideways so that he was in front of the door, and Kensi counted aloud to three and then said, "Go! Go! Go!"

She could hear wood splintering in stereo as the three men breached the back door at the same time Deeks kicked open the front. Raising her gun, she slipped past the broken door and shouted, "Federal agents!"

Of course the armed man closest to the front door decided to get up from where he sat watching a football game and raise his gun to shoot at her. And of course, Deeks squeezed off three shots in rapid succession and hit him square in the chest, seemingly without blinking. As he fell to the floor, bleeding out almost instantly, Kensi caught sight of Sterling leading the way through the kitchen that was at the rear of the ranch-style house, and for some completely unknown reason his first name suddenly came to her - Ben. She only half-watched him duck behind a counter and trade shots with one of the gunman in the kitchen, as she was trying to sweep her own area for the other armed man. Sterling quickly gained the advantage and aimed a lethal shot at the man's heart, and as he sank to the floor Sterling cleared his weapon.

"Kensi, get down!" She heard Deeks shout then, and she instinctively ducked behind the couch just as shots echoed off the living room walls. A bullet pierced the plaster behind her, at roughly the same place her head had just been, and then before she could peer over the back of the couch two bodies crashed to the floor in front of it. She heard something clatter to the hardwood floor, and when she finally looked around the corner of the sofa she saw it was a gun. She grabbed it before anyone else could and then searched for her partner. He was a part of the tangled limbs on the floor, his hands currently struggling to pin the other man's down. The suspect managed to get in a swing and hit Deeks in the face, but as Deeks put his arm up at the last moment it was little more than a tap. It also gave Deeks the moment he needed to yank out a pair of handcuffs and snap them around the man's wrists.

"Deeks?" She asked, and he nodded at her with a small grin on his handsome face.

"I'm okay. Go."

As she stood up and tucked the extra gun into her back holster, she heard gunshots from further into the house and carefully edged her way toward the hall. She cleared the first two rooms fairly quickly, but when she got to the end of the corridor she stopped and put her back to the left wall. Just beyond the doorway lay one of Sterling's men - Burke, she thought - face-down on the carpet with a pool of blood spreading under him. From the location of the pool she guessed that he'd been shot in the neck, bleeding out almost immediately.

Suddenly, there was a voice from inside the room, and she carefully peered around the door-frame. Sterling was there on his knees over the prone, unconscious form of Shaw, his left hand still on the fallen man's throat. Standing behind him was one of the armed men, his weapon held against Sterling's temple. Kensi forced herself to stay calm, her breathing slow and steady. Lifting her gun, she slipped around the corner and stood behind the suspect.

"Put it down," she commanded. "Now."

He hesitated for a long moment, but then took his finger off the trigger and raised his hands, and she quickly disarmed him. Sterling got to his feet and helped her handcuff the man, then took the weapon she had taken from the suspect.

"Saved my bacon," he said with a faint smile. "Thanks."

She nodded in reply, but then her eyebrows furrowed. "Where's the fifth man?"

A crash sounded from one of the bedrooms, and she sprinted from the room and ran to where she thought it had come from. One of the doors that had previously been closed was now hanging open a crack. Using the muzzle of her gun to push the door open the rest of the way, she immediately saw the source of the sound. A window had been broken, the curtains around it fluttering in the breeze. A flash of red and black darted past the empty pane and into the street beyond, and she stifled a curse.

"Deeks!" Kensi shouted into the hallway.

Her partner skidded around the corner and when he saw the window he said, "On it."

Before she could even nod, he was gone. She moved back into the room Sterling had been in, but except for Burke's body it was empty.

"Sterling?" She called.

"In here," his voice said from the living room. When she reached the area between that and the hallway, she found Sterling and a still-dazed Shaw keeping watch over their two remaining suspects, who were sat on the floor.

"You okay?" Kensi asked Shaw, who nodded.

"Knocked me out, but I'm good."

Nodding, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Ops.

"Eric," she said when he answered, "one of the suspects escaped. Deeks is trying to catch him on foot."

"I'll look at traffic cams in the area," he told her. She could hear keys tapping, and a few moments later he said, "Got 'em. Heading down Griffith Ave toward East 22nd."

"I'm heading there now," she replied. Looking to Sterling, she asked, "You okay here?"

He grinned, showing perfectly white teeth that contrasted with his tanned skin. "Absolutely."

She ran out of the house and jumped into her car, then drove off toward the intersection Eric had mentioned. As she sped down a side street, she put her phone on speaker and set it in her cupholder.

"Where are they now, Eric?" She asked.

"They turned down E 22nd and are heading for S San Pedro."

Making a split-second decision, she cut over to another side street and came out onto San Pedro. Their suspect reached the intersection just as she pulled up to block the street, and he took a step backward to try and maneuver around the corner. Deeks was right behind him, however, and instantly tackled him to the ground. Kensi grimaced as she heard the air rush out of the man's lungs, and as Deeks bound his hands behind him she came forward to help him get the man to his feet.

"Nice tackle," she told him.

"Nice move, cutting him off," he replied between gasps. Wiping sweat off his forehead with his arm, he smiled at her. "At least I got my cardio in for today."

She chose not to comment, instead steering the suspect toward the back seat of her car. "Let's drop him off and then get some food. I'm starving."

He nodded, still breathing heavily. When he was finally able to speak without sounding asthmatic, he said, "Sounds good."

* * *

 _She wasn't sure what day it was._

 _Her best guess was Tuesday. The team had gone out on Friday night, and if she was counting correctly they'd been here for four days, eating nothing and drinking only minimal amounts of lukewarm water. She hadn't even really wanted the water, but Callen had ordered her to drink it. Not one to upset him especially in their current situation, she'd relented, though she pretended to drink more than she did by keeping the cup tipped up even after she'd swallowed, or by taking smaller sips._

 _The men had once again left the room, though who knew how long they would stay away. Sometimes they were gone for hours, sometimes less than ten minutes. Wiping her tear-streaked face on her arms, she chanced a look at her team leader. His head was down, and she couldn't tell if he was awake or not, if his eyes were even open._

 _"Callen," she called, but he remained as he was. Taking a breath, she struggled to sit up and tried again. "Callen, look at me."_

 _Slowly, he dragged his eyes up to her face, and they looked so hollow she had to force down a gasp of shock. His voice, rough from both dehydration and screaming at their captors, rasped, "I'm sorry."_

 _She shook her auburn head. "It's okay. We need to get out of here, before they all come back."_

 _He pulled on his chains making them rattle loudly, and the absurd image of Jacob Marley's ghost popped into her head. 'How?" He asked._

 _She scooted a little to the left and reached for something that she'd been hiding underneath her. Holding it up in her zip-tied hands, she gave a triumphant smile and replied, "Someone dropped the keys."_

 _His eyes widened a little. "When...?"_

 _"When he reached for the broomstick. Must've fallen out of his pocket."_

 _She inched - yes, just like a worm, and yes, it felt just as degrading as one could imagine - across the glass-littered floor until she reached his feet. Looking up, she said, "At least your arm's stopped bleeding. Not your leg, though."_

 _"I'm fine," he lied. "Can you stand?"_

 _"Maybe," she replied, eyeing his body so that he arched an eyebrow._

 _"Nell..."_

 _"Shh," she said. Taking hold of one of his legs, she used it to keep herself balanced as she maneuvered her legs under her, then slowly climbed up his frame until she was up on her feet before him. It took a while, and even then her knees shook with the effort. Callen could tell she was in pain but trying to hide it, and though he wanted to apologize again he knew she would just tell him to be quiet, so he remained silent. Handing him the keys, she watched as he freed his wrists from the shackles, then shook his arms to relieve the pins and needles. His skin was rubbed raw from his repeated attempts to pull free of the metal clamps, the flesh at the base of his thumbs bruised dark purple, but he seemed not to notice, instead staring intently down at her._

 _"We need to find something to cut those ties off," he said, his eyes scanning the room for a suitable tool. Finally, he spotted a knife - the curved kind used for cutting carpeting but which more recently had been used to open wounds on Nell's body - and despite the nausea he felt just looking at it, he snatched it from the metal shelving unit it laid on._

 _They heard voices then, and Callen said, "Lay back down, quick."_

 _"I can't...I can't do this again..." she argued, but he shook his head._

 _"I won't leave you. I promise. Get down..."_

Callen and Nell both snapped to full consciousness at a clicking sound coming from nearby. As completely disoriented as they were, they simply froze and stared at the door as it slowly swung open, light from the hall growing brighter the wider the space grew. Strangely, the back half of a man came through the door first, followed by his front, and Callen finally let out his breath. Leaning over, he rested his hand on Nell's shoulder only briefly to let her know everything was okay, then stood up and tried to un-knot the muscles in his injured arm.

"Deeks," he greeted the backwards man, who promptly spun around so they could see his front. He was juggling a drink carrier in one hand, a large paper bag in the other, and clutched in his teeth was another, smaller paper bag.

Seeing their expressions, Deeks quickly moved to a table and set the drink carrier and bag down, then pulled the bag from between his teeth. Looking from them to the door and back again he said, "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to...I totally freaked you guys out."

"What are you doing?" Callen asked.

"Oh. Well," the blond said, pulling open one of the bags and rooting around inside it. "I know how the food is here, and since Kensi is on her way here we figured we could all have a little breakfast."

Callen glanced at the TV, which had yet to be turned off, then eyed Deeks skeptically. "It's four a.m."

Deeks shrugged. "Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep. So I called Kensi, and she wasn't sleeping, either."

Nell frowned. "What if we were?"

He seemed to be realizing for the first time that was completely within the realm of possibility. But then he simply said, "I brought croissants."

She tipped her head and smiled, and Deeks returned it.

"Uh-huh. See? I knew that'd get you." He looked at Callen. "And for you, donuts. There's glazed, powdered, and vanilla cream filled."

Beyond hungry, Callen took a step forward, his eyes on the bag that doubtless held the donuts. And yet, his raw voice remained nonchalant. "I could eat."

"Coffee for you and Kensi," Deeks went on, taking each cup out of the holder and setting them on the table, "and tea for me and Nell. Now, all we're missing is..."

The door creaked open again, and Kensi slipped inside. She saw Callen standing between the bed and the table, and she rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh.

"Deeks! I told you not to disturb them!"

"Princess," he intoned, and she frowned. "I was trying not to..."

"It's not his fault," Nell put in quickly. "We're light sleepers."

"Brought you a latte," Deeks told her. "With a caramel drizzle."

After a few more moments of light-hearted banter between the two, Deeks ducked out to grab a spare chair while Kensi moved the table so Nell and Callen could sit on the bed as they ate.

"So," Kensi said around a bite of croissant smeared with strawberry jelly, "when are they letting you guys outta here?"

"Not soon enough," Callen grumbled.

Nell nodded her agreement, then added, "Jenni, the nurse, said it should be sometime this morning."

"You could come stay with me if you want," Kensi offered. "Both of you."

As she expected, both of her friends politely declined.

"Thanks," Callen said, "but I'd rather go home."

"Me, too," Nell put in.

"Are you sure?" Kensi asked. "It's no trouble, and besides, it might not be a good idea to be alone after..."

"I need my own bed. And my bath tub," Nell interrupted with a wrinkle of her nose. "I could soak for hours."

"Mmm..." Kensi suddenly remembered something and set down her croissant, then dug around in the bag at her feet. Swallowing the bite of food in her mouth, she gave a soft smile and then handed Nell a pile of clothes. "Speaking of home, I grabbed a few things of yours for when you're discharged."

Nell recognized her flowered leggings and black peasant top, and she set them aside and returned Kensi's smile. "Thank you, Kens."

"No problem." She dug into the bag again and came up with another set of clothes, then handed them to Callen. "I didn't forget you, Callen."

He checked his outfit over, nodded appreciatively and then likewise set them next to Nell's. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Sorry I had to rummage through your underwear drawer, but, you know... Deeks was convinced it was booby-trapped."

He managed a small smile. "You're forgiven."

"You sure you won't change your mind?" Deeks asked them, his expression showing his concern. "Even for just a night or two?"

"I'll be fine," they both replied at the same time.

"We get it," Kensi said. "You wanna prove everything's fine. But that's not..."

"No!" Callen cried, his eyes hard. Then, realizing how loud he'd been, he blew out a breath and said, "Just, please..."

Deeks and Kensi shared a look.

"Okay," she said. Glancing down at her watch, she tapped her partner. "Time to go."

"But..."

She scowled. "Now."

Shooting Nell and Callen an apologetic grin, he stood and collected his coffee from the table. "Sorry to eat and run, guys," he said, "but our life of crime-fighting beckons."

"You're working a case?" Callen asked, curiosity piqued. Nell gripped his wrist before he could hop off the bed.

"Let them go," she warned him. "We haven't been discharged yet, and anyway you need sleep."

"No, I don't," he argued, gently prying her fingers from around his arm and standing up. "But you do."

She rolled her eyes. "We both do," she insisted. "You'll never get better if you don't rest."

"Nell..."

She just shook her head and gave him a slight push toward his bed. "I will if you will."

He considered arguing with her some more, but from the way she crossed her arms over her chest he figured he would not get far. Reluctantly, he nodded and sat down on his mattress.

"We'll come visit again later," Kensi promised. "Unless they spring you guys first."

"I'll text you if they do," Nell told her.

Deeks, who had already moved to the door to avoid either the awkward conversation or flying furniture, if it came to that, now lifted his hand and waved to the pair.

"Later," he said, and both Callen and Nell nodded in reply.

"Bye," Nell said as Kensi nudged her partner out the door. She turned to face them right before she left and smiled encouragingly. Nell smiled back, and then she was gone.

Callen sank back against his pillow and sighed. After a moment, he glanced to the side and saw the remote sitting on his table. Snatching it up in his hand, he began to flip through channels until a program about cars caught his interest.

After another ten minutes, he heard Nell ask, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"We agreed to get some rest."

He lifted his eyebrows at her. "No, you agreed. I didn't say anything."

"Really?"

"What?"

"We're gonna play this game?"

"I'm not playing games," he told her.

She climbed out of bed and came to stand beside his bed. "This isn't good for you, Callen..."

"Lots of things aren't good for me," he interrupted. "Coffee, bacon, chocolate cake..."

"That's not..."

"Being kidnapped and tortured, shot..." his voice grew louder with each word, "...Beaten, watching my friend be assaulted over and over again, poisoned, knocked unconscious...None of those things are good for me!" Chest heaving and out of breath, he added, "And certainly not you!"

"But we're not there now!" She shouted back. "We're here, together..."

"And what good have I been for you, Nell?" He asked. "If it wasn't for me they would never have taken you. They would never have..."

"Have what?" When he only shook his head, she said, "Say it, Callen. They wouldn't have what?"

He clenched his jaw and gave her a look of pure betrayal. Glowering darkly, he spat, "Raped you."

She felt her heart beat harder as he uttered the word, but she hid it with a shake of her head. "No. You heard him. He said it wasn't just you they wanted, that we were both just as involved. If it hadn't been you, it could have just as easily been Eric, or Sam. Or none of you." She shivered at that thought. What if she had been alone when they took her? Would she even be alive right now? She pushed those questions away, unable to think about the answers.

"I was glad I wasn't alone," she told him. "I don't want to think about what would've happened if you weren't there."

He opened his mouth to reply, but just then Sam came back into the room, carrying a cup of coffee he had clearly gotten from someplace other than the hospital cafeteria. He took one look at the scene before him and gave a heavy sigh, then set his coffee down and said, "I leave for five minutes..."

"It's not what you think," Callen began, but Sam just shook his head.

Ignoring him, the SEAL said, "Get some sleep, Nell. I'll deal with him."

She gave him a nod and turned to go back to her bed, but before she did she glanced down at Callen and said, "Stop fighting."

With that, she climbed back up onto her bed, pulled her blankets up to her chin and curled onto her side. She closed her eyes and within moments both men could tell she was fast asleep.

Sam dragged the chair Deeks had used over to Callen's bedside, then grabbed his coffee and sat down. His chocolate eyes stared at his partner, silently pondering how to say what was on his mind.

"I know what you're thinking," Callen muttered, and now Sam's eyebrows lifted significantly.

"You do?"

Callen nodded. "That she's right. That I need sleep."

"Most people do."

"But I can't."

"Why not?"

The look Callen gave him was one of raw fear. "Because I can't let anything happen to her, Sam."

Sam frowned. "You think that if you fall asleep, something bad will happen to Nell?"

"I know how it sounds," Callen snapped. "But I've tried, Sam. I fall asleep for a minute only to jerk wide awake, terrified, and I have to make sure she's still okay. Still here."

"So you haven't really slept since before you were taken?"

Callen shook his head.

"But you have to get some rest," Sam reasoned. "Your body needs to heal, and that can't happen if you don't sleep."

"I know that. Like I said, I tried. At this point I don't even know if I know how."

"It's not theoretical physics, G. I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Sam..."

Callen's partner shook his head. "Stop fighting it," he said, echoing what Nell had said. "Just stop thinking and blaming yourself and whatever it is that's going on in that brain of yours, and go to sleep."

They stared at each other, silently daring the other to relent, and surprisingly it was Callen who gave up and laid his head back on his pillow with a heavy sigh.

"Fine," he huffed. "But only because you're here."

Sam hid a smile. "Aren't I always?"

Callen didn't move to look at him. His eyes still staring at the ceiling, he said, "Yeah. You are."

* * *

 _TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Nell sat on the couch in her darkened apartment, a square pillow clutched against her chest. It had been three days since her release from the hospital and it was raining hard outside, the rain sheeting down her windows and filling the air with the wet earthy smell only a summer thunderstorm could bring. She listened to the loud rumbles that quickly followed each bolt of lightning, her heart pounding hard against her bruised ribcage. Another flash lit up the apartment like daylight, and Nell immediately dashed across the room for her phone. She hit a speed dial and listened to it ringing, her eyes screwed shut in silent prayer until a groggy voice answered.

"Callen."

"Callen," she squeaked, hating that her voice sounded so small. "I'm sorry..."

"Are you okay?" She could hear rustling, like he was trying to get out of bed.

"The storm..." she took a breath but it didn't seem to help. "I didn't know what to do."

"I'll be right there."

There was a click, and she knew he had ended the call. Still, she stared at the screen for a few moments until the backlight shut off, then climbed back up onto the couch and waited.

Had she really just done that? It was just a storm, after all. She'd seen dozens of them growing up, most of them much worse than the current downpour. She was just being silly, freaking out and calling Callen. He needed whatever sleep he could get these days, and there she went disturbing him over a thunderstorm. Maybe she should call him back, tell him that she felt better. It was a lie, of course; she was shaking like a leaf, but she felt terrible for making him go out in said storm just to comfort her.

By the time she had worked up the nerve to call him back, headlights had bounced across her ceiling and shut off, and a few moments later someone was pounding on her door.

Nell jumped up and unlocked the door and Callen rushed inside, bringing a gust of rain-cooled air with him. He was already soaking wet from the short trip between his car and her door, rain dripping down his face from his close-cropped hair. He shut the door behind him as a rumble of thunder shook the house, then switched on a lamp beside the couch.

Gazing down at her in concern, he asked, "You okay? You sounded so afraid, I thought..."

Nell nodded. "I'm fine. I don't know why, but when the storm started it really scared me. I guess I just panicked and called you."

He took a hesitant step forward and held her arms in his hands, frowning. "You're shaking."

"Yeah. Still kinda scared, I guess."

Looking down, he realized he was leaving a puddle on her floor, so he met her gaze and asked, "You okay for a minute? My bag's in the car."

"Sure," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll make us some tea."

After a final visual sweep of her person to make sure she was okay, Callen darted outside to the car, while Nell distracted herself by warming some water on the stove. She set out two mugs and hung tea bags inside them, wishing that she had some of Hetty's more exotic teas instead of the store-bought kind, but she knew Callen enough that as long as there was plenty of sugar and lemon he would drink whatever was put in front of him, especially this late at night.

He was back in under a minute, once more well soaked, and Nell couldn't keep a grin from flitting across her lips.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "You just look, um..."

"Like a drowned rat?"

She put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile and shook her head, but it was no use. "I'm sorry," she said around a giggle.

He just shrugged and hoisted his bag back up on his shoulder. "I'm gonna go change. Bathroom?"

"Down the hall to the right," she directed, pointing to the dark corridor that led to the rest of the apartment. "The tea will be done soon."

She watched his back disappear into the shadows, then turned back to the stove, her eyes staring blankly at the kettle.

 _What are you doing, Nell?_ she asked herself. _Playing Susie Homemaker is really not your style, and Callen most likely sees right through it. Is this some kind of lame attempt at normalcy, some reach toward healing after what happened? What are you hoping comes out of this? Callen doesn't see you that way, and even if he did he would never act on it because you work together._

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. He was her friend, nothing more, and that was fine with her. It wasn't, really, but she wasn't ready to admit that to anyone, much less herself.

The kettle finally whistled, and Nell grabbed a potholder and lifted it off the burner. She carefully filled the pair of mugs with hot water, and was just setting the kettle back down when the power suddenly went out. Complete darkness surrounded her, and she immediately panicked. Bumping into the table, she squealed as one of the mugs fell to the floor with a crash, and she jumped back to keep from getting scalded. As she did so, she nearly tripped over the waste bin and only remained on her feet by clutching onto the countertop. Knowing she was near the threshold to the relative safety of the living room, she held her hands out in front of her and slowly edged forward. She counted the steps in her head. Two more, and she'd be in the living room. She took one more, and then her hands came into contact with something large and firm, and she screeched in fear. She turned to run, but a strong hand clamped around her wrist as a voice said, "Nell, it's just me."

"Callen," she breathed, having forgotten that he was there. "The power went out and I broke a mug in the kitchen..."

The hand holding her wrist pulled her forward, propelling her into his arms, and she wrapped her own slender limbs around his torso. She breathed in his scent, warm and woodsy with just the faintest note of bitter motor oil, and she imagined him tinkering with a car engine the way he did with toasters, his head buried under the hood and his bare forearms smeared with grease. Her face grew hot, and she closed her eyes as she chastened her runaway thoughts.

"You have candles somewhere?" He asked then, and she nodded against his soft t-shirt.

"In the table beside the couch."

She moved to pull away from him, but he slid his hands down her arms and squeezed them just once as he said, "I'll get them. Stay put."

Just like that, his body melted away from her, and she heard him rustling around in the dark, stifling a curse as his knee collided with a piece of furniture. She heard the telltale squeak of the table's single drawer, and after a few moments Callen's hand was bumping around her arm, searching for her hand. She grasped his palm, lacing her fingers through his, and let him lead her to her bedroom. He again found the bed frame with his leg, and after the sharp curse he hadn't been able to stop tumbled from his mouth he gently sat her on the mattress and began to light the candles one at a time, setting them in strategic spots around the room. When the room was filled with the dim flicker of candlelight, he walked back over to her and asked, "Better?"

Nell shook her head yes. "Thanks."

He tried a grin, but it fell short of his eyes. "You should get some sleep," he told her.

"I don't think I can. Every time I close my eyes I have terrible dreams and then I wake up in a panic..."

He stopped her by softly speaking her name, and when he had her full attention he pulled down the comforter and swung her legs underneath it, then went around to the other side of the bed and slipped in beside her. Turning onto his side, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, her back against his chest. At first she kept her spine rigid, unsure of what to do, and he must have been able to feel it because his voice softly said, "Trust me."

As the moments passed she began to relax, curving naturally into the shape of his body. She closed her eyes, listening to his even breathing, feeling his limbs grow slack as weariness began to edge its way onto him. She had just started to let herself drop off when lightning once more crackled through the sky, and the resulting thunder was so loud the windows rattled. Nell jerked in Callen's arms and he reflexively tightened them around her.

"You're okay," he murmured in her ear, his warm breath stirring her hair. "I've got you."

She stilled, rigid once more, and then a sob shook her petite frame. It was soon followed by many more, and Callen turned her over to face him, his blue eyes bright in the candle glow.

"What is it?" He asked.

She tried to speak but the tears were coming so fast that they clogged her throat and all she could do was bury her face against his shoulder, shaking now not with fear but completely heartbreaking sobs. Callen stroked her hair, at a loss on what to do. He was never good at this sort of thing; dealing with emotion usually made him clam up and find something to hit until he felt better.

He hated that Nell was crying. It felt like his fault, but as he had no idea how to fix it he was stuck in the most torturous state of limbo possible, and the only way out that he could see was to run. But he couldn't run. She needed him. He'd already failed her once. He would die before he did it again.

Finally, she lifted her tear-stained face to look at him. Her eyes red and puffy, she managed to say, "I know you blame yourself, Callen. But it wasn't your fault."

 _So, this was it_ , he thought. They were going to talk about what happened in the warehouse. He considered refusing, but her hazel eyes looked so raw with pain staring up at him that before he could stop himself he said, "It was, Nell."

"How can you say that?" She asked. "I remember you asking them time after time to let me go. You didn't want them to hurt me."

"I should've lied. Given them something to look for. But I didn't. I kept my mouth shut."

She drew her brows together in a frown. "There was nothing to tell them. You know as well as I do that the only thing they were after was revenge. The tape was just another way to hurt us. None of that was your fault."

"Nell, you don't remember..." he began, but she shook her head and sat up, one leg folded under her.

"Listen to me," she told him, one eyebrow perfectly arched. "It was hard, lying there and being beaten and..." she sucked in a breath, then went on. "But the hardest part was knowing that you were forced to watch, helpless to do anything to stop it."

Callen's eyes filled with tears and he ducked his head to hide them from her. Nell put her hands on either side of his face and made him look at her, a sad smile on her freckled face.

"It kills me to know how much that hurt you," she told him. "You take your role as team leader so seriously. You live to protect others, so to be chained up and prevented from intervening was..." she searched for just the right word, "...devastating to everything that you are."

"I should've fought harder," he said barely above a whisper, his voice still raw from having shouted himself hoarse in the warehouse. "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. Taking his hands, she ran her fingers over his bruised wrists, down his thumbs that were covered in gashes from trying to free himself from the handcuffs. "You _did_ fight. And that was what gave me the will to fight as well. I'm alive because of you, Callen."

The tears finally spilled over, large droplets that rolled down his cheekbones and all the way to his jaw. He did not cry aloud - years of forcing himself to stifle any sound lest it anger an abusive foster parent had taken that ability from him - but Nell could feel his heartbreak all the same. This time it was she who comforted him, she who let him rest his forehead on her shoulder as great drops of pain and fear dripped onto her skin, her slender fingers running through his short hair and down his back. Her other hand was around his waist and she squeezed him once, trying to impart to him all the comfort and care she carried within her. She knew he wouldn't say any more; it was too hard for him to discuss failure - either real or imagined - and so she contented herself with the knowledge that at least he had come this far, that he was letting her touch him, and vice versa.

Physically and emotionally exhausted, Callen sat up, scrubbing his hand over his face, and Nell put her palm flat against his chest, trying to make him lie down. He clasped her hand in his and scooted downward to rest his head on the pillow, bringing her along with him. Once more he settled her in the crook of his left arm, his right one draped across her stomach where her shirt had ridden up to expose her skin. Nell held her breath as his fingers skimmed the barely-healed scars there, letting it out again when he merely curled them around her hip. He sighed softly against her neck and she closed her eyes, feeling completely safe with him there. The rain had lessened considerably, no longer a wild downpour but now a light shower.

Together, they fell asleep, blissfully ignorant of everything else around them but the soft lullaby tapping on the roof outside.

* * *

 _His head pounded, the pain keeping him from opening his eyes lest the light make his brain explode. He could smell blood, the bitter tang so close it made him gag, but he couldn't tell if it was his or not. Slowly moving each limb, he discovered that he was standing upright, against what felt like a concrete wall. His hands were suspended above his head and were therefore numb, and his legs ached with having to hold the majority of his weight for...hours? Days? How long had he been unconscious?_

 _Though it hurt to do so, he wracked his brain for an idea of how he'd gotten here. He remembered the bar, then leaving with Nell..._

Wait! _He thought._ Where's Nell?

 _Taking a chance, Callen opened his eyes and looked around the room. Panic set in when he didn't see her right away, and he turned his head so fast his vision swam, threatening to go black again. He stared at one place until the dizziness passed and then looked down, and there she was._

 _She lay on the floor with her arms bound in front of her, her body resting on some kind of plastic sheeting, and it looked like she was developing a nasty bruise on her cheek. That made him angry, but right then his need to be sure she was alive was a more pressing matter. He tried to move closer to her but his shackles prevented that, so the best he could do was call her name. It took a few tries, but soon she stirred and looked up at him. When she saw him chained to the wall she grew anxious and struggled to sit up, the plastic underneath her rustling loudly._

 _"Callen? Where are we?" She asked._

 _He shook his head slowly, so his brains wouldn't slosh around. "Don't know. You okay?"_

 _"I think I'm hungover," she moaned._

 _"Besides that."_

 _"My face hurts." She reached up and touched her cheek, feeling the bruise there, and sucked in a breath. "What happened?"_

 _Callen looked around the room, noting the cement block walls and concrete floor, as well as the thick plastic tarps surrounding them like curtains in a hospital room. "Whoever took us must've hit you," he told her. "Can you stand up?"_

 _It took some effort, but finally she got to her feet and stared around. "What do they want from us?" She wondered alo"ud._

 _"Don't know that, either." His head hurt again, but as his hands were bound above him he couldn't touch it._

 _Nell could see it, though, and she gave a little whimper and said, "Your head's bleeding. Or it was. I can't tell."_

 _That was right. He recalled being hit from behind at Nell's apartment._

 _"Nell," he said then, and she jumped at the sudden noise._

 _When her heart finally settled back into its rightful rhythm, she peered at him and asked, "Yeah?"_

 _"What do you remember?"_

 _She made a frustrated sound and flopped back down onto the floor. ""I was drunk, Callen."_

 _He closed his eyes. "Right." He'd had to practically carry her home. "Still, maybe something made it through. A sound, a face..."_

 _She stared at the ground for a few long moments. "No," she whispered. "I'm sorry."_

 _"It's okay."_

 _They sat in silence, Callen trying desperately to make a plan of escape. So far, he had come up with Jack-squat. His wrists were secured in handcuffs, chained to a concrete wall, and he most likely had a concussion. Nell was only zip-tied around her hands, but there was no way for her to free either him or herself. He supposed he could tell her to make a break for it, but with no idea how many people had kidnapped them, there was no guarantee she could get far enough, fast enough._

 _Nell's voice brought him back to the present. Timidly, afraid to hear the answer, she asked, "Are they gonna kill us, Callen?"_

 _"No," he replied confidently._

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"Because if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead already. They want something from us."_

 _"Like what?"_

 _"No idea. Depends on who's behind this."_

 _"But the team...they'll find us, right?"_

 _Callen tipped his head up to look at the broken window above him. The sun was just beginning to peek above the sill; from the angle and height of the window he guessed that it was nearing 9 am. "They just got to work an hour ago. Even if they figure out we're missing right away, they'll still have to track down our last known location. My car's at your place, so they'll have to clear your apartment first. Canvass the neighborhood..."_

 _"So we have hours at least..."_

 _"And days at most," he finished with a sigh. He knew that would upset her, but he could never get the hang of lying to spare someone's feelings, especially during a crisis. Best to deal with the reality of a situation head on. That way, you knew exactly what to expect._

 _True to his expectation, Nell's shoulders slumped. "If we survive that long."_

 _"Like I said, they're after something. They won't risk losing us before they get it."_

Maybe a little hope wasn't a bad thing _, he reasoned._

 _"Why us? Don't they know who you are?" She asked._

 _"Who_ we _are, you mean."_

 _Nell shook her head. "I'm an analyst. I don't have enemies." Then she realized how that sounded, and winced. "Sorry."_

 _"It's okay." He leaned his head against the cool, slightly damp wall and tried to relax, hoping it would ease the pounding in his brain._

 _Thinking was hard at the moment, but he couldn't afford the luxury of sitting - or standing, as it were - around and waiting to see what happened. He needed to keep Nell involved and himself awake, especially if he did have a concussion._

 _"They waited for us inside your apartment," he worked out aloud. "So either they already knew who we were, or they found out soon after they knocked us both out. We're both in the same room, together. Both bound, but still..."_

 _"An interrogation no-no, in most cases," she put in._

 _"Right. If they know our training, then they have to know that alone, we won't tell them anything. But if they threaten to hurt one of us it'll be much harder for the other to keep from giving up whatever intel they're after."_

 _Her eyes grew wide as the implication of his statement reached her, and her face drained of color. "Torture?"_

 _Looking her straight in the eye, he nodded. "Yes."_

 _"Oh!" She squeaked, tears instantly welling up._

 _"Listen, Nell," he pleaded, "I'm gonna do everything I can to keep you safe. But if they threaten to hurt me, you have to stay strong. No matter what, you can't tell them anything."_

 _"But I can't..."_

 _He shook his head. "You have to. Our job is a matter of national security. You can't tell them anything, not even to save my life."_

 _As if on cue, a door scraped open from someplace behind the tarps, and she worriedly glanced around the room, her breath coming in short bursts as her heart rate skyrocketed._

 _"Nell," she heard Callen say above the pounding in her ears, "please..."_

* * *

Callen jerked awake. The first thing he felt was warmth, an almost stifling heat radiating from beside him and totally engulfing his left arm. He slowly turned his head in that direction and saw Nell lying there, her back facing him. She was sleeping so soundly he did not want to disturb her, but his fingers were going numb. Reluctantly, he slowly slid his arm out from under her and she shifted in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He smiled at how peaceful she looked, which after the past week was a welcome sight indeed. The bruises she'd sported on her face and arms were beginning to fade, her skin once more the palest ivory but so beautiful. He stared at the faint freckles on her nose, memorizing their constellations as if they were stars in the night sky. He ached to reach out and touch them, but he dared not. He didn't want to wake her, and besides, she wasn't his.

They were co-workers.

Friends.

True, they had been through a terrible trauma together and as a result had drawn closer. But the emotions they had experienced during and after the warehouse were borne of survival and the need to feel less alone, and now that the danger had passed and they were back to "normal" life, any lingering feelings were irrelevant.

Besides, despite what Nell had said, despite what everyone else thought, her abuse was his fault. Especially that last day...

He felt her shift then and he froze in panic, wondering if he should pretend to be sleeping.

Too late.

She turned over and looked at his face, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hi," she said, a little shyly.

"Hey."

"Did you sleep at all?"

He nodded, his scruff catching a few strands of her hair. Her smile grew wider and she reached up and swiped the stray hairs back into place, her fingers brushing his jaw.

"Good," she said as she casually stretched her limbs like a cat. "I worried you'd stay up all night."

"Must be your calm presence," he said lightly.

"Hmm..." Her arms slackened then, her left one draping over his waist. "Maybe. Or maybe exhaustion finally won out."

As if on cue, he yawned, and Nell giggled. He lowered his eyebrows at her in mock-frustration. "Funny." Changing the subject, he asked, "You sleep okay?"

"Better than I have in a long time," she admitted. "I don't remember what I dreamed, either."

"Must not have been a nightmare, then."

She hummed again, and shifted so that her head was resting on his bicep. Closing her hazel eyes, she inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, her lips curving up in a slow smile.

Callen watched her face from mere inches away. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, lush and long, her soft mouth held in that same grin, and if he tilted his head just a little he could brush his lips against it.

Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze toward the ceiling. He had to stop thinking like this.

"Callen?"

 _So much for looking away_ , he thought.

His blue eyes flicked down at her face. "Yeah?"

"Is it weird that I..." she paused as she struggled to find the right words, or the right way to ask the question on her mind. She sighed then, and looked down at his t-shirt. "Never mind. It is weird."

Her name fell off his lips like honey. "Nell."

His tone was so gentle, so soft, she found herself gazing back up at his face. His fingers grazed her cheek as he said, "Talk to me."

"I wished...Every time that man came in and...I wished it was someone else."

He shook his head. "It's not weird."

"I guess I thought if I imagined it wasn't him, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Callen got that guilty look again, and she instantly reached up and touched his cheek. "Callen, don't."

"I can't help it. I should never have let them hurt you."

"There was nothing you could do." She dropped her hand to his chest, where she picked at imaginary lint on his shirt. "Besides, the fact that you're here now, instead of hiding away where no one can reach you, is so amazing."

"I promised you'd never have to be alone again."

"But that's not realistic, Callen. What about when you go back to going on ops? And besides," she propped herself up on her elbow, "as much as I love your company, eventually you have to go home."

He shrugged. "Maybe I won't."

"Won't what?" She asked. "Leave?"

He chuckled at her frown. "No. Go on ops."

Her eyes grew wide. "You couldn't!"

"Granger's always threatening me with a desk job," he went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Maybe I'll take him up on it."

"But you love your job. You're team leader..."

"I can't do this much longer, Nell. I'm not in my 20's anymore. Everything hurts when I wake up..."

"We need you."

He shook his head. "You don't. I only get you into trouble."

Angrily, Nell sat up and glared at him. "That's not true. You were there when Brown tried to kill me at the boat house. You saved me."

"Sam saved you."

"You were there in the kill house."

"You got out of that one yourself," he argued as he also sat up.

She stared at him incredulously. "All I did was pull his magazine. If you hadn't shot him, he would've come after me." Placing her hand over his, she said, "Every one of us - the whole team, Hetty, everyone - we are all better because of you, and we cannot function as a team - as a family - without you."

As he took in her words, she ran a hand through her hair and then grimaced. "Ugh. I need a shower. Think about what I said, okay?"

He nodded sedately, and she watched him for a long moment before deciding that he was being honest.

"Okay," she said, still unsure but unwilling to stay dirty any longer. "Be back soon."

She grabbed a set of clothes from her dresser and left the room, and he forced himself not to wonder what she would look like wrapped in only a towel, her damp hair hanging down her shoulders, drops of water sliding down her bare skin...

Sighing heavily, he flopped back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 _"I can't...I can't do this again..." she argued, but he shook his head._

 _"I won't leave you. Get down."_

 _She obeyed, and Callen ducked behind one of the tarps hiding their torture chamber from the rest of the room with the knife still in his hand. The leader and one of the other men - the camera man, Nell realized - burst into the room, arguing with each other, flinging shouts and curses in their native language back and forth. When they noticed Callen missing, they turned to Nell and began to shout at her instead. Camera man balled up his fist and was about to hit her when the tarps billowed and Callen burst forth from behind him. Using the element of surprise paired with the man's obscured vision, Callen was able to quickly draw the knife across the man's throat, severing the man's jugular. He fell to the floor gasping, bleeding out almost immediately._

 _Ringleader saw this and rushed at Callen, knocking them both to the floor. Weak and dehydrated, Callen's motions were jerky, his reaction time slowed considerably, and for a terrifying moment it seemed that the Russian would win the fight. He punched Callen hard in the jaw twice, then once in the ribs._

 _Out of air and on the brink of passing out, Callen's hold on the knife loosened, and the man grabbed it instead. As Nell looked on helplessly, he sliced a gash across Callen's arm, which he'd put up to protect his face. As blood poured down his forearm, Callen finally kicked the other man off, and he landed on his back a few feet away. Callen scrambled to his feet and grabbed the first weapon his eyes rested upon - the hated broomstick. Dropping down onto the man hard enough to knock the wind out of him, Callen held the stick against his throat, pressing on his windpipe._

 _"I told you I'd kill you," Callen ground out, his eyes hard._

 _As the man gasped and choked, gunfire could be heard echoing throughout the building. Nell breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a voice shout, "NCIS! Put down your weapons!"_

 _Callen looked down. The man's lips were turning blue, his eyes growing glassy, and the team leader tipped his head as a dark smirk formed on his face. Leaning harder on the broomstick, he patiently watched the man's chest stop moving, then tossed it aside and stumbled over to Nell._

 _"Callen," she said, reaching toward his face, but he ducked out of the way. Retrieving the carpet knife, he cut through her ties and picked her up, ignoring her protests as if he were deaf. Carrying her toward the exit, his leg burning with the effort, his mind was overwhelmed with the images he'd been subjected to inside the building, so much so that when he finally burst through the doors into the bright sunlight the stress finally overcame him and he instantly went into shock, forgetting everything except the past four days and what they'd been forced to endure._

 _He had to get her as far away from the warehouse as possible, no matter what. He couldn't let her get hurt any more._

 _He had to keep her safe._

 _After only a few dozen steps, his legs refused to cooperate anymore, and he collapsed to his knees. Still clutching Nell close, he watched as three people burst through the crowd at the edge of the parking lot - strange, he thought, that there were now so many gathered around a warehouse that hadn't been used in close to fifteen years - and ran toward him. He recognized them, but at the moment that was all he knew..._

* * *

When Nell returned a while later, her hair still wet and clinging to her neck like strings of seaweed, she found Callen sleeping fitfully in the middle of her bed, his limbs twitching as he suffered through whatever terrible dream was currently plaguing him. She frowned deeply as sympathy filled her, and before she could think she moved forward and laid her hand on his shoulder.

She had only just opened her mouth to call his name when he bolted upright and grabbed her by the wrists. His fingers dug into her skin so that she cried out, and the sound brought him instantly to full consciousness.

Horrified that he had caused her pain, Callen released her. "Nell, I'm...I'm so sorry," he babbled as he struggled to free himself from the sheets that had become tangled around his legs and stand up.

She sat down deliberately on top of the sheets, trapping him there, and laid her hands on his shoulders. "Stop," she said.

"But..."

She shook her head, sending droplets of shampoo-scented water scattering across his face.

"I should know better by now than to try and wake you that way," she explained. "I know you would never hurt me on purpose."

He dropped his gaze to the covers. "Nell..."

"Anyway," she went on, "there's absolutely no food in this place, so what do you say we get something to eat?"

"I don't know..."

Nell rolled her eyes. "We can't just hide out here forever."

"Sure we can."

"No, we can't. We have jobs, and friends who miss us."

"We're not cleared for work," he reminded her. "Besides, I like it here."

"You really are a pain, you know that?"

"I get that a lot."

"Yeah, well..." Getting up, she ripped the blankets off the bed and tugged on his arm. "Come on. Get cleaned up and let's go."

He hesitated another moment longer and so she pulled again and succeeded in toppling him over. He fell sideways onto the mattress and began to chuckle, and Nell laughed with him. "Okay," he finally relented. "Okay. Just stop throwing me around."

Nell laughed again. "Hurry up. My stomach's so empty I'm nauseous."

He slid off the bed, reflexively checking his cell phone as he stood up. Other than a text from Kensi that simply said "Don't be a hermit crab", there was nothing important there.

He was just about to head to the bathroom when he heard a low rumbling sound, and he stopped and listened, intrigued as to where it was coming from. Before he could ask, Nell giggled nervously and said, "See? It's roaring."

He just laughed and made his way out of her room and down the hall.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and when Callen opened it he was surprised to see Owen Granger standing there on his front porch.

"Can I come in?" Granger asked in his usual gravel voice.

Callen stepped to the side and opened the door a little wider. "Sure."

The assistant director walked past Callen and entered the house, waiting in the hallway until Callen had closed the door and gestured for him to go into the living room.

"You want a drink? I've got beer..."

"No, thanks," Granger casually replied with a wave of his hand. "I just dropped by for a minute."

Callen nodded. He looked around at the room and then grimaced. "Don't mind the mess. I've been...preoccupied."

"I've seen worse."

Honestly, he had not even noticed the rumpled sheets on the couch and the take-out containers strewn across the coffee table until Callen had pointed them out. And anyway, his own place was a sight messier, his only excuse being that he was never home to clean up. After what he'd been through the week before, Callen had no need to explain anything to him.

"How are you?" Callen heard him ask.

It took a full minute for the team leader's brain to process his question, and then another few seconds to register the genuine concern in his tone.

"Uh," Callen finally began, "I'm...okay."

Granger simply nodded. "Right."

Callen couldn't tell if that was genuine or not, but he was betting on not.

"I mean, my leg's still a little sore and it hurts when I breathe too deep, but..."

"What about nightmares?" Granger asked. "Panic attacks?"

Callen shook his head.

The two men looked at each other, trying to read past each other's eyes. Normally, Callen would be perturbed and a little challenged by Granger's surprise visit, but somehow he failed to feel anything but curiosity. Whether that was by design or by accident was the real question.

"Been to the doctor lately?"

Callen shifted his weight to his uninjured leg and shook his head. "Got an appointment Friday." He frowned slightly. "What's this all about?"

Granger's face remained unchanged. "Just an asset assessment. The usual."

"You wanna know if I'm ready to come back."

"Maybe." Sinking down into a nearby chair, he changed the subject. "Have you spoken to Ms. Jones?"

He knew the answer already, but he wanted to see what the team leader would say. Nell had begged Callen to go home, at least for the day. Despite the fact that she enjoyed his company (which Granger thoroughly doubted), she said she needed space. Granger didn't blame her for that; Callen had been fairly her shadow for the better part of a week, refusing to leave her alone for more than a few minutes at a time. Granger wondered how in the hell she hadn't killed him already.

"She's not," Callen quickly replied.

Owen played dumb. "Not what?"

"Ready. She's..." He blew out a breath. "She's not ready."

"I didn't ask that."

"Didn't have to."

Now, Granger sighed. "Callen, I don't know what you think of me, but I would never push someone in your situation into resuming your duties unless I was sure you were one hundred percent."

"No?"

Granger suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the challenge in Callen's question and instead said, "No. You and Jones have been through a major ordeal. Hetty and I agree that neither of you should worry about coming back until every part of you has healed. That includes your psychological state as much as your physical. Actually, more so."

"So, you came here just to see how much progress I've made?"

"I came because I care," Granger told him. "And if you tell anyone else I said that, I'll deny it."

The younger man smiled. "I won't, as long as you do something for me."

"What's that?"

"Make the tape disappear."

"What tape?"

Callen did roll his eyes. "The recording. I know you watched it. You had to."

"I don't have to do anything," Granger said.

"So you know what happened," Callen went on as if he hadn't heard him. He sat down on the couch and stared at the TV screen, though it was turned off. "You know what...what I did."

Owen watched the anguish on the younger man's face. He recognized that guilt all too well, having looked at it in the mirror almost every day for thirty years.

Sitting forward, he caught Callen's gaze and held it. "The longer you hold onto it, the worse it's gonna get. Anything that happened in there, it's on the men who held you. They're the ones at fault."

"See, everyone keeps saying that, but..."

"But, nothing. I know you love to torture yourself thinking of all the things you should have done differently, but in this case you had no control. And that's what's bothering you - that you had no way to change what was going on."

"I should've got her out of there right away. Five days..." he looked up and Granger could not mistake the sadness in his eyes.

"You did what you could."

"I didn't do anything!" Callen shouted.

Granger's gaze turned hard. "You stayed strong," he argued back. "You made sure she knew you were there, and you made sure those bastards knew you weren't playing their sick games. That, Callen, is more than enough."

He let that sink in, and then stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of his pants. "The sooner you understand that and believe it, the better. For all of us."

Callen moved to stand, but Granger held up a hand and said, "I'll let myself out. Give my best to Ms. Jones."

The younger man sat in the same spot until his cell phone rang. He snatched it up from the coffee table, where it was hidden beneath a pile of napkins. He answered it without even reading the caller ID. "Callen."

"Waves look good today," Deeks cheerfully said. "Wanna catch a few?"

Callen glanced around his disheveled living room, then out the window. The sun was shining, the sky empty of clouds. He could stay inside, staring at the same bare walls he'd been looking at for more than a week, but the longer he stood there the less appealing that sounded. At the same time, though, going outside seemed like a bad idea...

"I'll meet you in twenty," he told Deeks.

He could hear the grin in the detective's voice as he replied, "Sweet."

* * *

 _The screen went from black to snow, and then a blurry image slowly faded in. It was Callen, shackled to the wall, his head hanging down as he was either asleep or unconscious. A hand reached in from the right and slapped him and he jerked awake, his head hitting the cinder blocks hard enough that it was a wonder he wasn't knocked out again. A voice asked in Russian where the weapons were, and he shook his head and replied - also in Russian - that he had no idea._

 _"What weapons?" Callen asked in English, genuinely confused._

 _The same hand that had hit him now grabbed the back of his neck, made him look at something on the floor in front of him._

 _"See the girl?" The Russian voice asked, though now in English as well. "Tell us, or she gets hurt."_

 _"No. Don't." Callen licked his lips and looked at the man. "I don't know what weapons you're looking for, but please don't hurt her."_

 _"You do know. And you will say, if you want her safe."_

 _The camera angle shifted slightly then, and Nell could be seen about ten feet from Callen, bound and left on the floor._

 _"Callen?" She asked, eyes full of fear. "What weapons?"_

 _"I dunno," he told her. "But I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"_

 _She nodded._

 _"Hey," he called to the man holding the camera, and it swung up again to focus on his face. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."_

 _The cameraman just laughed, and Callen's jaw clenched._

 _"Last chance," the man to his right said._

 _Callen shook his head. "I don't know about any weapons."_

 _The man clucked his tongue and then knelt down in front of Nell. He grabbed her bangs and yanked back, and she yelped as he slapped her face hard, bringing tears to her eyes as her cheek turned bright red. Callen tried to leap forward to stop him but as the shackles kept him in place he began shouting, so loud it hurt his throat._

 _"Leave her alone! Nell, I'm so sorry. Stop! Please!"_

 _Laughter erupted from the man filming, and then amid this and Callen's shouts, the scene faded out to black once more._

Sterling blew out a breath as Hetty pressed the button that turned off the computer screen.

"That's rough," he said.

Hetty nodded. "That is only a small part of what went on in that place," she told him. "I hope you'll understand that I cannot show you the rest..."

"No worries," he assured her. "I wouldn't want you showing anyone else if it were me."

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling. I thought it important that you understand some of what Ms. Blye's team is going through right now."

"What do you need from me?" He asked.

She gave a half-smile. Straight to the point, this Sterling was. She had chosen this man well, all those years ago. He had a fabulous sense of humor and had great compassion, but God help you if you crossed him. "First, I want to give my condolences on the loss of your man. Mr. Burke was a great asset to this organization."

His nod was solemn. "He was. Thank you."

"Now, your report from the latest operation..."

"Is on your desk," he interjected, nodding toward the mahogany surface between them. A manila folder sat off to her left, tilted at just the slightest angle so that it was noticable without being in the way.

She nodded. "It is, indeed."

"But you've already read it," he guessed.

Now she smiled fully. She had almost forgotten his ability to be completely charming while still being a smartass. Not unlike Callen, she thought.

"Yes. It is very thorough, and vividly detailed."

"But?"

"The man you brought in, from inside the house. How did he get the bruises on his face?"

Sterling shrugged. "Must've tripped."

She did not reply, opting instead to simply stare at him to convey her displeasure. Sterling scratched his thumbnail across his jaw, but stubbornly stared back. Also very much like Callen. They were cut from the same cloth, those two.

"Mr. Sterling," she finally sighed. "It is not this agency's policy to go around beating suspects..."

Sterling pulled in a deep breath. "He almost killed Shaw. He would've killed me, too, if Kensi hadn't been there. In my opinion, he got off easy."

"That is not for us to decide," Hetty growled. "No matter how much we wish it to be. Our job is to get these people off the streets."

"These aren't people," Sterling argued. "They're animals. The things they've done are beyond anything a human could imagine."

"But they _are_ , albeit horrible examples of them. However, they still have rights..."

"What about Nell's rights?" Sterling hissed, his hands curled around the edge of her desk. His anger was visible in his eyes, in his flushed cheeks, but he wisely kept his voice low. "What about Callen's?"

"So this is about retribution, then?"

"No. It's about justice. About what's fair."

Hetty shook her head. "Mr. Sterling, as I said before..."

"It's not our job. I heard you." He pushed away from the desk to stand up, his dark eyes glowering down at her from an almost impossible height. "I'm not going to apologize, Hetty. Transfer me, demote me - hell, fire me if you want, I don't care. I won't stop until every last one of these sick bastards is either dead or in jail."

She remained silent, and so he went on. "Twenty years ago, you hired a kid fresh out of high school because he had a gift not many others had. You remember that?"

Hetty nodded. "I do."

Sterling was a master at reading people. Not just the average ability of catching them in a lie, or reading their past in the lines of their hands. A modern-day Sherlock Holmes, he knew what they would say moments before they said it. He could tell if they were about to run, even with his eyes closed. He knew their background, how they'd grown up, and he could even "guess" their age down to the month. Some said he was psychic, but he vehemently denied that. When asked about his gifts, he would simply shrug and say, "Just need to listen." But to what or how to go about that, he kept a well-guarded secret.

"I had no idea back then all the things that would happen, the places I would go. And you took a big step of faith, bringing me in when all I wanted to do was burn the world down. I was so angry, so fed up with people and their lies and their fake smiles, but you came and showed me that there were still people who were genuine, who weren't afraid to be themselves for better or worse."

"You were - and still are - a very good man with an extremely large heart."

"But," he went on, "if you had told me back then that one day my job description would change to a glorified kitten wrangler, threatened by the very criminals we catch and too afraid of being sued to take them down as rough as necessary, I would've laughed in your face."

"You are not a kitten wrangler. All I am trying to tell you is that there is a fine line between injuries sustained during apprehension and brutality."

"And all I'm saying is that the line is even finer than you realize."

He turned to walk away, and Hetty stood up behind her desk. "Where are you going?"

Sterling turned back, an eyebrow arched. "To do my job. Unless you've decided to kick me out?"

It took a long moment, but she finally shook her head.

That damned grin broke out on his face again, and he said, "Well okay, then. You've got my number."

Once he was gone, Hetty blew out a breath and said, "I certainly do, Mr. Sterling."

* * *

Nell was coming back from the corner store, a bag of groceries hanging from her wrist and her keys in her hand, when she saw someone - a familiar someone - perched on the front steps of her apartment building. Smiling wryly, she lifted the hand with the keys in a wave, and her friend returned it.

"Hey, Sam," she greeted him. "Thought you'd be hanging with Callen today."

He waited til she stepped up onto the porch and took the bag of food from her before answering. "He's out with Deeks."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Really?"

He lifted his eyebrows, telling her that he'd had much the same reaction when he found out. "Yep."

"Hmm," was all she said as they walked into the building and down the hallway, then up a flight of stairs to her floor.

"It's good for him," he went on, and she nodded in agreement. "He's always been a hermit, but after last week..."

"Did you know he's thinking of going to desk duty?" Nell asked.

Sam screeched to a halt just outside her door and turned to face her. His dark eyes bored into hers as he asked, "He said that? Actually said those words?"

Nell nodded. "He said Granger's always threatened him with it, but maybe it was time. Said he was getting too old for going on ops."

"I'll give him old..." Sam muttered.

Nell opened her door and they stepped inside. Sam set the groceries on the kitchen counter, then braced his hands against the sink as his thoughts raced around his head.

"I know that this has been really hard - on both of you - but I want you to know that we're all here. We miss you."

She smiled softly at him. "I miss you, too. It has been hard, but I think being forced to 'recover' away from work is actually making things worse."

"Processing takes time..."

"I know," she interrupted. "But no one seems to get that being kept locked up almost totally alone was rough, and now we're basically being punished with the same thing. I want to be at work, where my friends are. I don't want to feel lonely again."

Sam looked at her and then asked, "Is that why you let Callen stay here so long? Just so you wouldn't be alone?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "No reason."

"I mean, Kensi and Deeks offered to let us stay with them, but I just...it didn't feel right."

"Because they're a couple. And you'd be the odd one out."

"They asked Callen, too."

"But you knew he'd say no. Because he's not one to impose."

"So then why'd he stay here?"

His dark eyes peered into hers. "Why _did_ he?"

"To protect me," she guessed as she busied herself putting away the groceries. "He felt like he failed at the warehouse, so he tried to make up for it."

"Did he?"

She looked at him, confused. "Did he what?"

"Fail?"

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't..."

"He couldn't protect you," Sam reasoned. "So logically speaking, he failed."

"Well, but it wasn't his fault."

"Not what I asked."

"But that's not fair!" Nell cried. "It's not like he just gave up and stood there. They shot him! He was chained up like a dog and they shot him. What was he supposed to do?"

"He couldn't do anything," Sam agreed.

"Then why...?"

"I'm just trying to make you understand how deep this goes. In his mind, it doesn't matter that he was physically unable to protect you. All that does matter is that he failed to do his job."

"So, what? He's gonna keep trying to make up for that for the rest of his life?"

"Either that, or he'll start pulling away when he realizes that's impractical."

Nell's heart squeezed at that. She was getting used to the glimpses of Callen's more open side. They were few and far between, but she didn't think she could stand it if she never saw them again.

"Well, thanks for that depressing news," she told him. "Next will you tell me a puppy died?"

Sam came around the counter and took the can of beans out of her hand that she'd been about to put in the cupboard. He held both of her hands in his and stared straight into her eyes. "I didn't come here to upset you, Nell. I'm sorry."

She wanted to shout at him, to ask him why he came there, but instead her eyes filled with tears and she stared up at the ceiling to stop them from falling.

"I just wanted to warn you, that's all. Callen's not an easy guy to figure out. He can be close to opening up and spilling all his secrets, and then the next moment he's shut down and ready to run. That's not easy on me, and I've been his partner for years. I don't want you to think it's your fault if he does it to you."

He was right, and she knew it. Callen kept everything buried, locked and bricked up away from the world. "I know," she finally said. "It's okay."

"Be careful."

"I will."

He nodded and released her hands. "Good. I'd love to hang out a while, but I've gotta get back to work."

He headed for the door, but before he could open it Nell called, "Sam?"

"Yeah?" He asked as he turned back.

"Could you talk to Hetty? Get her to let me come back?"

His eyes rolled heavenward, but before he could reply she added, "Please?"

He could not say no to those pleading hazel eyes, so he said, "I'll see what I can do."

Nell nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

* * *

 _TBC..._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It happened, just as Sam had said it would.

She just didn't think it would happen so soon. A few weeks, maybe a month. She was not prepared for him to disappear after only five days...

Nell tried to call Callen, but after three rings she got his voicemail. She tried three more times before she gave up and shoved her phone in her pocket.

Then, an idea came to her and she pulled it out again.

 _ **Hey**_ , she texted him, _**where are you?**_

She waited five minutes for a reply.

Ten.

After twenty minutes, she sent another text.

 _ **Call me.**_

She got no reply.

Sighing, she grabbed her keys and purse and left her apartment. Locking the door behind her, she paused to check it a second time, then hurried out to her car and drove to his house. It wasn't a far drive - less than ten minutes, but the midday traffic she got stuck in made it seem like an hour. As she sat there in her car, every scenario her mind could conjure passed through, making her more nervous - and more angry - by the minute.

Finally she parked in front of his house and knocked on the door, but either he wasn't home or he simply wouldn't answer. Standing on his porch, she dialed a number on her phone and put it to her ear.

"Nell? Are you okay?" The voice on the other end asked.

She smiled. "I'm fine, Eric. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Can you find out where Callen is? I've been trying to get a hold of him, but..."

"One minute. I'll see if I can find him."

She gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

She could hear him typing, and then the sound paused and he asked, "Are you at Callen's house?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," he replied. "I found your cell signal. Still searching for Callen..."

While she waited she glanced around at the outside of the house. In the front yard, a huge fuchsia bougainvillea draped over the front window, slowly spreading toward the front porch, while another bush of the same variety crept up over the left hand wall to the roof. The front stoop was accented with the loveliest patterned tiles, hand-painted in colors that matched the stucco adorning the exterior. They were her favorite feature, even more than the riot of fragrant flowers, because they showed the care a person had gone through to make this house a home. They were the smallest detail, but without them it would not have the same character it did now. They told a story, like the potted plants by the door. Nell knew that they were the same plants that had been there when Callen moved in. Somehow, despite the fact that they had once been little more than brown brittle stalks of grass, he had brought them back to blooming, their purple blossoms attracting a few honeybees. Their stalks were shorter, not as full as they could have been, but that was only due to the drought they'd experienced before he arrived.

"Anything?" She asked Eric, who sighed heavily into the phone.

"Sorry," he replied. "He must've taken the battery out. I can't get a signal."

"That's okay." She looked around one last time and then added, "I've got someone else I can ask."

* * *

Angry, Nell stalked into the Mission and found Hetty talking to a man with salt-and-pepper hair and deeply tanned skin. She was seated, but the man was standing, though his relaxed shoulders told Nell that their conversation was somewhat light, at least at the moment.

When she entered the room, he turned around and only then did she recognize him.

"Agent Sterling?" She asked the man. " What are you doing here?"

"Just getting my next assignment," he told her. "Though I could ask you the same question."

She blushed at his open appraisal of her person, and some of her anger melted away. He, like Agent Gibbs, had the of ability to put someone at ease with nothing more than a look. Of course, they could also use that same ability to agitate, and ultimately, get a confession. "Uh, I just had to talk to Hetty for a moment."

Sterling nodded. "Well, I won't keep you. You look well."

"Thank you."

"Coming back to work?"

"Hopefully soon," she replied with a pointed look at Hetty.

"Good to see you." To Hetty, Sterling said, "I'll get right on this," and held up the folder she'd given him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sterling."

He left through the front door to the courtyard, and Hetty turned her gaze upon the young woman before her. "What can I do for you, Ms. Jones?"

Now, Nell remembered the reason she was upset, and frowned deeply as she asked, "Where is he?"

"I'm afraid I don't..."

"Callen," she sighed impatiently. "He won't answer my calls."

"Oh, well, I haven't seen him."

Nell gazed around, still frowning. "I checked his house, I called Sam and Deeks..."

"Sit down, dear," Hetty interjected, her hand indicating the chair Sterling had vacated. "Please."

"I hoped he wouldn't do this," Nell muttered more to herself than her manager. "I thought he trusted me."

"Oh, Ms. Jones! He does trust you. Mr. Callen is..."

"A difficult man, I know. Sam explained that to me, and I get it. But I thought we'd...I thought after everything that I would be the last person he'd shut out."

"Unfortunately there is no rhyme or reason to some of Mr. Callen's more upsetting traits. Once his mind has reached that point where it either shuts down or explodes, logic no longer has reign over him."

"I don't know what to do, Hetty. I'm afraid for him. What if he's hurt or sick or...worse?"

"I'm sure he's fine," the older woman assured her. "This is normal for him. In a few days he will come out of hiding and..."

Just then, Nell heard a noise from upstairs and leaned back in her chair to glance up at Ops. She caught a glimpse of a familiar shape behind the glass and turned surprised eyes on Hetty. "Is he...is that him up there?"

Hetty got up and walked around her desk to look, and Nell stood up as well. "He must have sneaked by when I was busy," Hetty pondered aloud. Perhaps in her old age she was getting clumsy, losing her edge. "I had no idea..."

Nell glared at her in disbelief and then rushed for the stairs, ignoring Hetty calling her name. Her anger surged back red-hot as she pounded up to Ops. _How could she have lied?_ she wondered, but then she knew. Callen was pretty much Hetty's adopted son. Of course she wouldn't rat him out.

 _Unless_ , another part of her pondered, _she hadn't lied at all._ His nickname, after all, was the Ghost.

Nell reached the top stair and stopped just outside the doors. Sure enough, Callen was inside the room, talking to someone else she could not see from this angle. She could move to the other side, but if she did he was sure to see her and that was the last thing she wanted right now. She needed to find out what he was doing here and why he was avoiding her...

* * *

 _"Last chance," the man to his right said._

 _Callen shook his head. "I don't know about any weapons."_

 _The man clucked his tongue and then knelt down in front of Nell. He grabbed her bangs and yanked back, and she yelped as he slapped her face hard, bringing tears to her eyes as her cheek turned bright red. Callen tried to leap forward to stop him but as the shackles kept him in place he began shouting, so loud it hurt his throat._

 _"Leave her alone! Nell, I'm so sorry. Stop! Please!"_

 _Laughter erupted from the man filming, and then amid this and Callen's shouts, the scene faded out to black once more._

The video stopped, and Kensi turned to Callen and asked, "Why are we doing this again?"

Callen looked at her. "Because I need to know."

"But all the stuff you guys went through...are you sure you want me to see this?"

"No," he replied. "But I don't want to watch it alone."

"We could just ask..."

"No!" He said quickly. "Just press PLAY again."

Shrugging lightly, she did as he asked.

 _This time when the camera faded in, a man was holding Callen against the wall, his meaty arm locked across Callen's throat and prepared to choke him if he lashed out, while another man used a syringe to inject him with something. Callen was most definitely fighting against his hold, as his jaw was clenched hard and the tendons in his neck stood out, but the starvation he had been subjected to forced him to give up more quickly than usual and he finally relaxed and leaned his head back against the wall. The needle was removed from his arm, and he glared at the man restraining him._

 _"It won't work," he said, though his voice was already slurring slightly. "I won't tell you anything, because I don't know anything."_

 _"Is not truth serum," the man who'd injected him replied._

 _Callen's blue eyes filled with fear. Truth serum he had dealt with before, more than once, but he had no idea what this - whatever it was - would do to him. "Then what..." he shook his head as his vision blurred. "What is it?"_

 _More laughter, and then, "You will see."_

 _The men released him from the shackles and dragged him over to Nell, laughing as they dumped him beside her. They disappeared from view, but anyone watching the video could tell they were still in the background, somewhere behind the camera. For the first few minutes, nothing happened. Callen remained on the floor beside Nell, and she used her bound hands to stroke his face. They spoke to one another, their lips moving but with no audible sound as the microphone was not strong enough at that distance to pick up what was said._

 _Five minutes in, Callen's limbs suddenly began to tremble. Concerned, Nell sat up and put her bound hands against his face. Her lips moved, clearly uttering his name, but either he couldn't or wouldn't answer. Then, the trembling morphed into a full-on seizure, and Nell frantically struggled to roll him onto his side, but with her hands tied it was hard for her to get the necessary leverage. Finally, she managed to shove him onto his right side, and though her body blocked most of him from the camera's view his thrashing legs were still completely visible. The seizure only lasted thirty seconds, but it was enough to terrify her. She remained right beside him, her hands hovering over his torso as if she were afraid touching him would bring on another episode, until at last he looked up at her, confusion full on his face._

Kensi looked over at Callen. "You remember this?"

He nodded. "This part, yeah...the rest I'm not so sure about..."

 _"Nell?" He asked, fear thickening his voice, "What happened?"_

 _"They gave you something," she explained, her own voice sounding tired. "It made you have a seizure."_

 _He seemed to understand, though his eyes still seemed unfocused and his skin had grown frighteningly pale and damp with sweat. When she brushed her hand across his forehead she grimaced at how hot it felt._

 _"You need something to drink," she told him as she dragged her canteen closer._

 _The sound of the metal canister scraping against the cement floor caused Callen to screw his eyes shut and clamp his hands over his ears, and he cried out in pain as he simultaneously attempted to stop her from making any further sound._

 _"Stop! God, please...!" He gasped._

 _Nell released the canteen as if it were on fire and, forgetting they were bound together, tried to place her hands over his on either side of his head. She was forced to settle for just the left one._

 _"I'm so sorry!" She cried. "I didn't know..."_

 _"It's...it's okay." He gasped in a few more breaths, and when the pain had subsided enough to open his eyes again he fixed them on her face and said, "Some kind of poison, I guess."_

 _She nodded._

 _"Probably..." He paused as a burning sensation began in his chest, more painful than any heartburn he'd ever had. "Gonna get worse."_

 _"Please don't leave me, Callen," she begged. "I can't...I can't be alone here."_

 _He winced, but managed to shake his head. Even though it hurt terribly to speak, he ground out, "I won't...won't leave you. Promise."_

 _All night long, though a stiff breeze blew through the pane-less windows above them, Callen's temperature soared into what Nell figured must have been above 101. He had two more seizures, leaving him semi-conscious and exhausted. He could barely move, his already-weakened limbs unable to support his weight for more than a few moments at a time. Nell made him drink both rations of water, only taking a few sips for herself, and when he began to babble incoherently during what she guessed was a hallucination she soothed him and replied to his questions even though none of them made any sense._

 _His fever broke sometime before dawn, and thankfully he began to regain some of his strength. Having stayed awake the entire time, Nell figured now that he seemed to be resting peacefully she could finally get a little rest herself, so she lay down beside Callen and closed her eyes. Curled on to her side with her back to him, her head pillowed on her hands, she felt the pull of slumber dragging her down almost as soon as she lay down. She could just barely hear Callen still muttering to himself, but it was actually little more than white noise to her at this point. Everything blurred together into one soft sound that lulled her further to sleep - Callen's voice, the distant crash of the ocean on the shore, the creaking of the rafters above them, and her own heartbeat._

 _She just wished she was anywhere else but here..._

* * *

The sun was shining.

She reveled in the feel of it on her face, warming her cheeks and turning the insides of her eyelids watermelon red.

She could smell flowers on the air, lupines and wild carrot and thistle among a few others. The grass underneath her was cool, dotted with the slight remains of morning dew. The breeze was warm but not hot, and when it blew across her face some tendrils of her hair moved along with it. A meadowlark whistled its song from someplace nearby, the warbled notes reminding her of a cell phone ringing.

She had no idea of when or how she'd gotten here, but this place - wherever it was - was so completely peaceful that she loved it.

Even before she opened her eyes she could tell that someone else was there, but their presence was calming, familiar. She stretched her limbs and though the muscles ached and her skin felt tight it wasn't unbearable. It felt like she'd been running a marathon.

Finally she let her hazel eyes flutter open, and she turned her head to the left. Blue eyes peered back at her, and she smiled softly.

"Hi," she greeted the man beside her, her eyes squinting in the bright light.

"Hi," Callen returned, his fingers idly tugging at the petals of a buttercup as he lay on his stomach. "Have a good nap?"

She nodded. "I did."

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. "Good."

She closed her eyes again, content to breathe in the air around them, to enjoy just being here. She could feel his hand brush up and down her arm, and she smiled.

"This was a great idea," she said, and then giggled when the bristle of his day-old stubble scratched where his fingers had just been as he pressed his lips first to the inside of her elbow, then her forearm.

"Mmm," was all he said.

"Having fun?" She asked as she cracked her eyelids open to look at him.

He raised himself up on his elbows and pressed his mouth to hers, effectively silencing her. She had to admit she was having fun, especially at that moment. She enjoyed everything about the man currently kissing her - his eyes, his smile, even his more serious and withdrawn side. She knew about his past, why he kept himself closed off from most people, and though it made her sad to know he had gone through such horrible things she knew that every experience had lent a part to the man he was now. She was a little surprised at the affection he was suddenly showing her, but he seemed to be so completely comfortable that she wasn't about to stop it.

"Shh," he said, dragging his lips down to her jaw and then over to her ear. "You talk too much."

"And you don't talk enough," she laughed as he shifted so that he was now leaning over her. Her hands drifted over his shoulders, her fingers whispering along his sun-warmed t-shirt to stroke the soft skin at the back of his neck.

"Don't need to. My work speaks for itself."

Now she propped herself up on her elbows and gazed into his eyes. "Does it?"

He nodded solemnly and then waggled his eyebrows, and she collapsed back onto the ground in a fit of giggles. He chuckled along with her, and when she had calmed down she took a breath and said, "I would like to see how true that is."

He tilted his head slightly, gauging her honesty, and then said, "I'm happy to oblige."

He leaned down and kissed her again. She closed her eyes as his scent washed over her and his tongue swept across her lips. She moaned as he began to press harder, his left hand moving to her waist and then up under her shirt. Soon however, she realized that he was holding her down, pinning her to the ground. His mouth was no longer a gentle pressure but painfully assaulting her tender lips. She put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away, but it was as if he were made of stone.

Finally, she managed to turn her head for a moment, and only then did she realize that the air was not sweet with wildflowers but damp and acrid, the sun no longer shining brightly around her.

She was not in the field.

She was in the warehouse.

And what was even more frightening was that she had not been dreaming. Well, she had been, but not about everything. Callen was indeed there holding her down, just as she'd dreamed; her hands were still pressed to his chest, her lips bruised from his rough kiss.

"Callen?" She squeaked as she struggled against him some more. "What're you doing?"

He didn't answer, only dropped his head down to kiss her again. She tried to turn away, but he caught her chin in his hand and held her in place.

"Please, don't do this," she begged as tears began to slide down her temples.

His expression remained static, and she closed her eyes in defeat.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"That's not you," Kensi said as she leaned forward and pressed PAUSE.

"It _is_ me," Callen sighed, his shoulders slumping as he paced back and forth in front of her. "I don't remember it at all, but it's me."

She swiveled in her chair to watch him. "It must have been the drugs they gave you. They made you do those things."

"Kens..."

"No, just...wait. There's gotta be something in your bloodwork from the hospital. Whatever they gave you, it made you do things you'd never do."

"Kens...there's no..."

"Because I know you, and that is not you."

"Kens!" He finally shouted, and she looked up at him.

"What?"

"We've been over this. It's me."

"Physically, maybe, but not mentally. You'd never do that if you were in your right mind."

"So you're saying that whatever that drug was, it made me try to...assault...Nell?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so let's roll with that. What if it had been Deeks in there with me? Or Sam?"

"I don't...You probably would've tried to beat them up or something."

"So if it was a guy I would've just tried to beat them up, but since it was a woman, my mind decided rape was the way to go?!"

"No..."

"Then why?"

"I don't know!" She shouted. Then, she sighed. "I'm not...Callen, look, this is Nate's specialty, okay? I'm just trying to help."

He started pacing again. "I know, Kens. I'm sorry."

She watched him for a good five minutes in silence, her eyes following him as he moved from left to right and then left again, and then finally she sighed and called his name.

"Callen."

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Stop."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because if I stop moving I'll start thinking about the tape..."

As he passed her again, Kensi got to her feet. When he turned around to come back she stood in front of him, blocking his way. He stared into her eyes, his own filling with tears. "...and how I hurt Nell and I just can't..."

She wrapped her arms around him and he laid his forehead on her shoulder, silent tears soaking into her plaid shirt. "It wasn't your fault," she soothed, her hand stroking his back. "They did this, all of it. Nell doesn't blame you. None of us do."

"I remember her face, the fear in her eyes, and I just feel sick. I haven't eaten in days because I'm afraid I'll start puking and never stop, but I feel like even that's too good for me."

Kensi couldn't stop her own tears from falling down her face. Squeezing him tighter, she said, "You need to talk to her, Callen."

He shook his head. "I can't. I can barely even look at Sam without feeling all kinds of guilty, and he wasn't even there."

"She needs you," she argued. "You're the only one who truly understands what happened there, because you were there together."

"No." He shook his head again. "She doesn't need me. She needs someone who didn't hurt her. You, or Deeks, or Hetty..."

"You're wrong," Nell's voice said from the doorway, and they both turned to look at her standing there. Her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her, and Callen took it to mean she was nervous, that she was afraid of him.

"Nell?" Kensi asked.

The redhead smiled at her. "Hey, Kensi. Could I...?"

Kensi glanced at Callen and then back at Nell before nodding. "Sure. I'll be downstairs."

Trapped, as the only exit was now behind Nell's back, Callen stood still in the middle of the room, his eyes never leaving her small frame. Her eyes, however, were fixed on the screen above him, where the slightly grainy video was frozen on the image of Callen leaning over her.

"Hmm..." was all she said.

"Nell..." he whispered, afraid of what her reaction to the image would be.

"Y'know, if you didn't know better, you'd think that was a picture of two people in love."

She came forward and shut off the screen, then stood in front of Callen. He eyed the door as if he were ready to make a break for it, and she chuckled. Reaching up, she put her hands on either side of his face and made him look at her. She wasn't angry anymore, not at him, anyway.

"I do need you, Callen," she said softly.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he said, blinking back more tears.

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault."

"I would never..."

"I know. I knew it the moment I looked up into your eyes and saw..." She paused and bit her lower lip, her brow furrowed as she tried to find the right words to explain.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing. They were blank. Cold. They weren't you at all. It wasn't you hurting me." She lightly pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit in her swivel chair, and then stood in front of him with his hand between both of hers. "It was like you were...gone...but not really."

"Nell, I..."

"Callen, I still trust you. Nothing can change that."

"But..."

"I realize this makes absolutely no sense to you..."

He nodded mutely, his blue eyes clearly confused, and she bit back a smile.

"And that no matter what I say, you are going to feel responsible for what happened."

"Because I..." She put her fingers to his lips, cutting him off.

"But just the same, you're forgiven."

Too overcome with emotion to speak, Callen stood up and grasped her hands in his. As he pulled her against his chest, she slipped her arms around him in return and he sighed in relief.

As did Hetty. Watching from outside Ops, she finally felt as if Callen would be okay. Maybe not right away, but soon.

"Why did you hide from me?" Nell asked into his shirt. "Because of this?"

He nodded. "I had this dream, and then I realized that it really happened and I was so horrified that I couldn't...I didn't know what to do."

"You didn't need to run away," she told him. "We could've worked through it together."

"I thought if you knew..."

"But I _do_ know. I remember everything, but it doesn't change anything."

"Why?"

"You don't remember?"

Callen shook his head. "Remember what?"

"Watch the rest."

He looked at her like she had two heads, and Nell giggled. "Press PLAY, silly. And turn the screen back on."

Callen moved to press the button, but then turned back to her. "Only if you'll stay."

She dipped her red head in a nod. "Of course."

Callen turned the monitor on. The image popped back up on the screen, and when he pressed PLAY it jumped back to life.

 _For a moment, it seemed Nell would try to fight against him again, but then something in her eyes changed, and instead she slipped her bound hands up under his dirty t-shirt, her palms flat against his torso. He responded by grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging it upward, and she was forced to pull her hands back out so he could pull it up and expose her jet black bra. His mouth greedily covered hers, but rather than pull away she returned the kiss with just as much fervor, her knees brushing the outsides of his thighs in a rhythmic motion that only excited him more. He said something in her ear and at first she blushed a deep shade of red, but she quickly recovered and nodded her head. As she looped her arms around his neck, he reached down to grab hold of her behind. He ground his hips against hers and she threw her head back, her eyes closed as what looked like a gasp of pleasure escaped her._

 _Their bliss was short-lived, however. The men stepped in to stop them, dragging Callen away from her despite her pleas for them to leave him alone. Callen tried to fight them, but three men would have given him trouble on a normal day; with his weakened state he could do little but thrash in their grasp. They chained him back up in his usual spot, kicked his injured leg for good measure, then went back to the camera and shut it off._

Callen sat there, eyebrows knitted in confusion. "I don't understand. Why?"

"Because," Nell explained, "they were counting on me being unwilling. They thought it would be more fun to watch you do what they'd done to me. But when I didn't cooperate, when I seemed to be enjoying it, they ended the experiment."

He frowned darkly, so she reached over and took his hand. "It's okay."

"It's not. You had to pretend to be okay with it so I wouldn't..."

Nell shook her head. "I wasn't." When he wouldn't look at her, she gently pressed her fingers against his cheek and turned his face toward her. "Callen, I wasn't pretending."

His blue eyes grew wide, and she blushed furiously and ducked her head.

"You...wait..."

"I just..." She took a breath. "Wow, this is hard."

"So, but you know..."

"It's...not allowed," she finished for him. "Yeah, I know."

He sank down into the swivel chair and ran his hand through his hair. "I had no idea."

"I know." Nervous, she twisted her hands and sighed, then said, "I don't...I shouldn't have said anything. This was...I should just go."

Nell turned to leave, but Callen caught her by the wrist and kept her there.

"Nell, wait."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I put you in a bad spot just now, and it's not fair of me. You're the team leader and you have enough to worry about and I just..."

"It just caught me off-guard," he told her.

"Yeah, well..." She gently pulled out of his grasp and took a step back. "It kind of slipped out. But I don't want anything to change. We have a great team, and I don't want to jeopardize that. Just forget I said anything, okay?"

Before he could reply, she left Ops. Left him sitting there, in her chair.

 _"I wasn't pretending."_

She'd said that. He was sure he hadn't been imagining it.

And then, not more than a minute later, _"...forget I said anything."_

Well, that was impossible. If only she'd stuck around a minute longer, she would've known...

"Everything okay?" Kensi's voice asked from the doorway, and Callen's head jerked up to look at her.

"Yeah," he said, a little too quickly, but beside a lift of her eyebrow she let his reply pass without comment.

"You hungry? We're hitting up the taco truck down the street."

He nodded. "Sure."

Anything to get his mind on something else.

* * *

 _TBC..._


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Just wanted to drop in for a minute and say thank you to anyone who has left a review! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story as much as I am, and I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!_

Chapter 10

Things were slowly returning to normal.

Nell had been cleared for duty, though she knew Callen thought she wasn't ready. Lucky for her, it was ultimately up to Granger and Hetty, and they both decided that they couldn't keep her away from NCIS forever. She had almost cried with relief when she sat at her desk for the first time in almost a month; her hands stroked lovingly over her keyboard as she waited for the computer to boot up, and even Eric's incessant questioning of her mental and physical health was music to her ears.

She had missed this place - these people - fiercely.

Callen was...well, he pretended to be unchanged by their abduction, but everyone who knew him could tell that was far from the truth. He tried to play it off by saying that he was just taking his job seriously, but sometimes when they were all up in Ops he stood so close to Nell that she felt claustrophobic, and he seemed to be able to find a myriad of reasons to be close to her. She appreciated it, she really did, but it was unnecessary. NCIS headquarters was one of the places she knew she was safe; it was like a second home to her.

She considered bringing it up to him, but every time she started to think about it all she could remember was when she admitted her feelings to him, and she instantly decided against it. She was still embarrassed about that, but thankfully he was a professional and never mentioned it, and she was grateful for that. She had meant what she said about not wanting to ruin their friendship, and he seemed to have agreed with that sentiment and was willing to pretend it had never happened.

The others - Sam and Deeks and Kensi - were all equally ready to put the last month's events in the past, and she loved them all for it. They were willing to listen if she needed to talk, but they refused to treat her like some fragile china doll that would crack at the smallest joke. She wished she could say the same for Eric, but she knew that he lacked the training and experiences of the others, and he only wanted to make sure she was okay. She understood his actions, she really did. He cared about her, and he had his own way of showing it.

Footsteps sounded on the floor behind her, and both she and Eric turned around to see Granger striding purposely toward them.

"Sir," Nell greeted him, and he nodded once to acknowledge her.

"Jones." He looked to Eric. "Beale."

"What's up?" Not the most professionally-worded question, but Nell knew he didn't mind. After so long around Callen's team, Owen Granger was beginning to loosen up.

A little.

"A case just came across my desk this morning." As more footsteps rang out from the metal staircase leading to Ops, he added, "The team's already on their way up."

She nodded and swiveled around, then gained remote access to Granger's desktop and searched for the case. There was an entry marked with today's date, so she punched a few keys to bring up the information just as Callen and the others made their way into the room. As expected, Callen came to stand to her left, and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. At least he had quit putting his hand on the back of her chair. Maybe by the end of the week he would back up a few feet.

Granger waited until everyone was inside before he explained, "Daughter of a Navy captain was found dead in a motel a few miles outside LA."

As he spoke, Nell brought up the pictures and fought against a wave of nausea. The woman was around her age and height, lying on the floor with her torso in the bathroom and her lower half in the bedroom. Her skimpy silver cocktail dress was bloodied, and her once-lovely face was covered in cuts and bruises. Her black clutch had obviously been dumped out, and Nell could see a tube of lipstick that matched the shade the woman was wearing, as well as a ticket stub and a few other personal items spilled across the carpet. About three feet from her body, half under the bathroom vanity lay a wig - the cheap kind people bought to go with a Halloween costume - and it wasn't so much the length that got to Nell as the color. It was the same shade of red as her own, cut into a short 1920's style bob.

Beside her, Callen stiffened, and she knew he had noticed it as well. She didn't mind when he brushed his hand across her shoulder this time. Heck, if she could she would have jumped into his arms and buried her face against him, but as it was she merely steeled herself and brought up the woman's driver's license.

"Her name's Julie Paget, 27 years old," Nell put in, her voice soft. As she watched Eric bend over his keyboard and start researching each aspect of the case, she cleared her throat and added, "Lived in LA and worked as a cocktail server in a bar downtown."

"Preliminary exam says she died of asphyxiation," the assistant director put in, "but so far we have no suspects."

"Witnesses?" Sam asked.

Granger shook his head. "None so far. This motel isn't exactly in the classiest part of town, if you know what I mean. Most people are interested in keeping their anonymity, and no one wants to face retaliation for ratting someone else out."

"Great," Deeks grumbled. "What about drugs? Anything stolen from the victim?"

"Toxicology's not back yet. Local PD said nothing looked to be missing. Still had her purse, house keys, and a fairly large amount of money on her."

"So what's the theory?" Callen asked. "Retaliation against her father? Kidnapping gone bad?"

"Not quite. We think someone did attempt to kidnap her, not because of who her father is, but for human trafficking. Selling American women into prostitution in other countries." He tapped Nell's shoulder, and she nearly jumped in her seat before bringing up the information she knew he was asking her for. "We've got intel from a few sources overseas that there's a ring operating under the guise of a charity organization called 'World Path'..."

Eric took up the narrative next. "PATH is actually an acronym for 'Partnership against Trafficking of Humans."

"Of course," Callen put in. "What better way to go undetected than to pretend to work against the very crime you're commiting?"

Eric nodded. As he brought up their website, he went on. "To date, they've led a mission into over a dozen countries, 'rescuing' -" he mimed air quotes "- women from brothels and such and bringing them to the US for a better life."

"Lemme guess," Deeks grumbled, frowning deeply, "Working for a pimp-slash-drug dealer."

"That's the theory," Eric agreed.

"How haven't they been caught yet?" Callen asked. "Someone's gotta have connected the dots."

"Their CEO is well-connected, and so far anyone who's come forward has been discredited."

"Or died," Eric said. "Unsurprisingly, of drug overdoses."

The looks traded around the room said that no one believed that none of those that had died had done so by their own hand.

"What about surveillance cameras?" Kensi asked. "There's got be security footage somewhere. Her workplace, maybe?"

"We'll start looking," Nell told her.

"Someone had to see her leave after her shift," Deeks said. "Kensi and I will go talk to her coworkers."

Granger nodded. "Callen and Sam, go check out the crime scene."

"I think we should have a word with her father, too," Callen suggested, but before Granger could reply another voice spoke from the doorway.

"Leave that to me, Mr. Callen."

Everyone turned to see Hetty entering Ops, a slight frown on her face. She only stopped once she was in the middle of the room, and Nell smiled. Even at her height, she instantly managed to become the center of attention.

Callen's frown mirrored hers. "Hetty," he began, but she held up a hand.

"Time is of the essence, Mr. Callen. There are other women in danger here, and there is no telling what might happen to them if we do not find them soon."

He clenched his jaw, but relented. The look he gave both bosses, however, clearly conveyed his frustration with them. He did not appreciate Granger springing this case on them, especially with Nell in the room. She'd been through enough lately, and despite her protests that she was fine and ready to work, he could see how affected she was by the whole thing.

"Let's go, G," Sam said, and he nodded and followed his partner from the room. Kensi and Deeks soon left as well, and both Hetty and Granger similarly disappeared with little more than a murmured goodbye.

Nell looked over at Eric and noticed the strange expression on his face. "What?" She asked with a frown.

"Nothing."

"Good." She turned back to her computer and continued typing.

"It's just..."

She sighed and tipped her head back. Swiveling to face him again, she said, "Look, I know what you're gonna say, and I'm fine. This is our job. If I couldn't handle it, I wouldn't have come back."

"I know, but you've been through a lot. It's gotta be hard seeing all this."

"It's not easy," she agreed. "But I need to get back to work doing what I'm good at, afraid or not."

He regarded her from behind his glasses, then slowly nodded. Blowing out a breath, he said, "I see your point. But if this gets too much for you, let me know and I'll take over."

Her smile was as genuine as his concern. "Deal."

* * *

Callen and Sam walked into the hotel room, stopping just inside the door. The local cops had long since finished up, though the crime scene tape was still wrapped across the open door frame. The body was gone, taken by the coroner to do an autopsy, but the pool of blood the victim had lay in was still there, drying to a dark rusty-brown on the worn carpet.

Callen looked around at the drab room, at the threadbare curtains holding back the morning sun. The paint on the walls was far from the clean white it had once been, and the whole room smelled of cigarette smoke and something else that he did not care to investigate further. He wrinkled his nose and debated breathing through his nose for only a moment before vetoing the idea. He was already feeling sick enough smelling it; tasting it would definitely be much worse.

Sam noticed the look on his face and allowed a smile to flit across his lips. "You okay over there?"

"Fine," Callen told him as he crouched down to get a closer look at the blood. "Sam, look at this."

His partner came over and stood beside him, and Callen pointed to the edge of the pool nearest the door. It had been slightly smeared, as if someone had stepped there. "That look like a shoe print to you?"

"Could be," Sam said. "We should get a photo."

Callen had already reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tried holding it at a few different angles before he found one that would give the clearest image, then snapped a picture and sent it to Eric. He then dialed Eric's number, and after only one ring the analyst picked up.

"Eric," Callen greeted him. "I sent you a pic of what looks like a shoe print. It's kinda light, but there might be a tread there."

"Sure thing," Eric replied. "I'll call you back if I get anything."

Callen hung up without saying goodbye and put his phone away. Standing up, he put his hands on his hips and did another visual survey of the room. He was acutely aware that Sam was watching him, but he pretended not to notice.

"G."

He moved to walk toward the bathroom, but Sam blocked his path. Callen huffed, but stood still and stared at him. "What?"

"What's going on?"

He played dumb. "Nothing. Everything's fine. Well, except there was a murder here that we're supposed to be investigating..."

Sam shook his head. "Something's bothering you."

"A lot about this bothers me, Sam. Someone tried to kidnap this woman and basically sell her into slavery. And when that didn't work and she fought back or tried to escape, they killed her."

"Not about the case," Sam sighed. "Well, not directly."

Callen inhaled deeply. He considered lying some more, but he knew Sam would see through him. They had been partners for a long time, and Sam had been there for him too many times to count. He didn't deserve anything but the truth.

"I'm still pissed at Granger," he finally admitted. "He didn't have to involve Nell in this. Not after..." He trailed off, unable to put words to his thoughts.

"You don't think she should've seen this," Sam said as he fit the pieces together, and Callen nodded. "It's too close to what she - what you both - went through."

"She's not ready, Sam."

"She thinks she is."

"But she's not!" Callen argued. "I'm still not okay, and I didn't even..." his eyes widened in horror as he realized he'd almost disclosed something he had no business revealing. Looking away guiltily, he said, "I don't know how she's even functioning."

"She has us," Sam replied simply. "Look, Nell's stronger than you're giving her credit for. She knows what she can handle."

"But..."

Sam shook his head. "Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she thinks the same about you? That maybe she worries about how you're doing? Because that's where we all are right now."

"I don't..."

"We're all worried about you. You're the lead agent, here. You keep us all together, make sure we're all where we need to be, professionally and otherwise. And if you're not a hundred percent, we all suffer."

Callen stared at his best friend, the man he considered his brother. He was right, and they both knew it.

"You two went through some twisted, messed-up bullshit," Sam went on, "and I'm not gonna tell you that I understand how you're feeling or that you should deal with it and move on. I saw your face when you came out of that warehouse, and I'll be honest with you, it scared me. For the first time, I wasn't sure you were gonna be the same. And maybe you aren't, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Nell's changed, too. But you need to stop being afraid of that."

Callen swallowed thickly. "I can't help it, Sam. She was...I was responsible for her and I let her down."

Sam's dark brown eyes rolled heavenward for only a moment. "You didn't. What happened, happened to both of you. Neither of you were able to control the situation." He walked toward the window and looked out onto the street below, commiting everything to memory for later reflection. "She told me you were considering desk-duty."

Callen shrugged. "I was...weighing my options at the time."

"And now?"

"She was right; I can't be stuck behind a desk, be the one sending you guys out on dangerous missions."

"You'd go nuts," Sam said, and Callen nodded.

"Pretty much."

"So, no more thinking about quitting?"

"What, and leave you without a partner?" Callen asked with a smirk. "Never."

* * *

 _TBC..._


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Thank you all for continuing to follow and review on this story! Yes, I am still working on it, but I had a couple rough months. My laptop's charger port completely disintegrated and fell out, so I had to save up money to get a Chromebook, though soon I'd like to get a new laptop as the Chrome just isn't quite the same as a traditional laptop. Then I hit a writing block, and well...you know how that goes._

 _Anyway, enjoy the next chapter. I'll try to get another up in a reasonable amount of time, but no promises! LOL_

* * *

Chapter 11

Nell sat staring at the photos on her screen, a strange sensation building in her chest. She couldn't stop thinking about the victim.

Julie. Her name was Julie, and she was 27.

Her dad was a naval captain and her mom was a teacher. She had two brothers, both working in construction. Nell wondered if they had heard yet, if they were right now making funeral arrangements. She could picture that scene - Mom trying to relay her daughter's wishes but getting too emotional, so Dad, stoic as ever, has to step in and take over.

Nell gazed at the woman's face, feeling tears burning at the back of her eyes. Had things turned out even a little differently, she could have been Julie. Or, Julie could have been Nell. She wondered if she had been afraid, and then decided that she had. Most people were afraid when they knew their life was in jeopardy. When death was staring them in the face.

Nell had been. And as many times as she wished for death to come to her there in that warehouse, she had only wished it for Callen's sake, so he couldn't be tortured another time. But at the same time, she'd known she had to fight to stay alive, for people like Julie.

" _Nell," Callen said, shaking his good leg to keep the blood flowing in it, "look at me."_

 _She lifted her eyes to do so, and though Callen could see a lovely bruise over her right eye he pretended not to notice. Her lips turned down in a frown as she refused to fully meet his gaze, her cheeks reddening in shame. How could she look at him after what he had just witnessed? "Callen..."_

" _I'm gonna get you out of here. You believe me, right?"_

 _She nodded, though a small part of her knew she was only doing it for his benefit. "I know."_

" _You have to stay strong, okay?"_

 _Though her whole body hurt, she pushed herself into a sitting position and tried not to see the blood on the tarp underneath her. "I'm not like you, Callen," she muttered. "I'm not..."_

" _I have faith in you. We're gonna walk out of here together."_

 _Now she scoffed. "They shot you in the leg."_

 _Callen grinned despite the pounding in his head. "There she is."_

" _I wasn't joking."_

" _Neither was I."_

He had been right; she was strong. Some days she felt it more than others, but it was there.

Glancing once more at her screen, she clenched her fists.

She had to do something. Something more than sitting here behind her computer and hiding from the world. Sure, she was afraid; she was terrified, and she knew that when Callen found out what she was about to do he would be more than a little upset. But she knew she could help, and to her, to sit and do nothing felt almost as bad as what these monsters were doing.

Thankfully, Eric had run off for a bathroom break, so with a quick glance around and a deep breath, Nell got up and escaped Ops to find Hetty or Granger.

She found them both together in Hetty's office, and though that idea amused her in a way, it only strengthened her resolve. Marching up to the desk, Nell cleared her throat and waited for them to acknowledge her.

"Miss Jones?" Hetty asked without looking up from the file she read. "What can I do for you?"

"I have an idea on how to get into PATH," she said.

Now, the Ops manager did look up, though her gaze went to Granger rather than Nell. Reluctantly, she asked, "Oh?"

Nodding, Nell slid into the chair on the other side of the desk, her hands curled around the top edge. "It's dangerous, but I think it's doable."

Casting another curious glance at the assistant director, Hetty finally shifted her eyes to Nell and said, "Go on..."

* * *

"Absolutely not!" Callen shouted, his arms unfolding from his chest to hang at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. Looking at Nell, he frowned deeply as he asked, "Why would you even think I would be okay with this?"

"I can..." she began, but he was already turning to face his superiors.

"And you two...you're insane."

"Mr. Callen..." Hetty said, but her voice was drowned out by Granger.

"Jones' idea is the only way we can quickly gain access to this operation."

"She could be killed!" Callen cried. "Why am I the only person in the room who gets that?"

"You're not," Nell put in. "But I can help. I need to do this."

He shook his head. "We need you here."

"Eric's here. He's just as fast as I am, if not faster."

From the back of the room, Deeks, Kensi and Sam watched silently, each wondering how this would go. They all had experience with Callen's tenacity, as well as his strong desire to protect those around him. But they also understood that they needed a way into PATH, and Kensi acted and looked too much like a cop - her cover wouldn't last half as long as Nell's would.

"I won't let you do this, Nell," he finally said, his voice low with warning, but she just shook her head.

Her eyes cutting toward Hetty, she told him, "It's not up to you."

Even from where they stood, the others could hear his teeth grind together as his jaw clenched, and Kensi heard Deeks make a nervous sound in his throat.

"Nell..." Callen began, but she was already shaking her head again.

"You need someone who looks innocent, who's never seen the underside of LA."

"You can't. I won't be there..."

"To protect me. I know," she told him. "I'll be okay."

"You can't promise that!"

"And you can't protect me all the time. You have to trust me."

Callen's eyes misted with tears, but he turned away from everyone so they wouldn't see. "It's not you I don't trust."

Nell smiled wryly. "I know. But you told me something a few years ago that I've never forgotten - trust my training." She moved in front of him and put her hands on either side of his face. Her hazel eyes wide, she said, "I learned from the best, and I don't intend on letting him down."

"I can't, Nell. I can't stand by and know that you're alone and in danger...Just the thought of it is making me crazy."

"She won't be alone," a voice said from the doorway. Callen turned to see Sterling there, his face solemn.

"Agent Sterling will be going undercover as a potential buyer," Hetty explained. "Anything he finds, he will report directly to you."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Why, what, Mr. Callen?"

"Why can't I be the buyer? I've got experience with trafficking..."

"As do I," Sterling said, though he kept his voice soft. No sense in pissing off someone who was already feeling threatened on his turf.

"You are already much too close to this. What would happen if I sent you there and you discovered that Nell were injured?" Hetty asked.

"You'd tear the place down with your bare hands," Granger told him. "We all know that."

"And," Hetty added, "Mr. Sterling has given his word that he will do his best to ensure Nell's safety."

He looked around, and no one could miss the betrayal in his eyes. Hetty certainly understood; he felt totally outnumbered and not in control of the situation, a sensation she knew he did not enjoy on a good day.

"If anything happens..." he said, his voice breaking at the end. He was looking at Nell, but Hetty knew who he was really talking to.

"Yes," Hetty replied with a nod.

Without waiting to be dismissed, Callen turned and stalked out of the room.

Only when the doors hissed shut did Nell let out the breath she'd been holding.

Hetty reached out and took Nell's hand. "He will be fine, dear," she promised.

"I hope so. I don't want to do this to him, but..."

"I'll go with him," Sam assured her. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, Sam."

"I found the number of one of the executives of World PATH," Eric said as Sam left. It was clear by the frown on his face that he was less than thrilled about this plan, but he wisely kept his reservations to himself. "His name is James Sheridan. Nell should call him, posing as a college student interested in volunteering with the organization on their next trip, which according to their website, will be to El Salvador."

"Last chance to back out, Short Stack," Sterling told her with a soft smile, but she shook her head.

"I've got to do this. These people need to be shut down."

With a nod to Eric, she waited as he dialed the number, then counted three rings until a man's voice said, "World PATH, this is James."

Panic threatened to close her throat, but she swallowed against it and said, "Hi, James. My name is Holly Gilbert. I heard about your organization from a friend of mine, and I was interested in maybe volunteering with you guys."

"You did?" He asked genuinely. "Which friend, if you don't mind me asking?"

Staring at the picture on the Smart Board, she said, "Julie Paget. We work together."

"That's great," James told her. "Well, we're having a sort of informational meeting tomorrow at the community center on La Brea. If you'd like to join us we'd love to have you."

"Yeah," she replied with a giggle everyone in the room could see was totally fake. "I will absolutely be there. What time?"

"Four thirty. Room Six."

"Room six," she repeated, sounding as if she were writing the information down. "Okay."

"Oh, and Holly?"

"Hmm?"

"If you have any other friends you think might be interested, please invite them along. We're always looking for volunteers."

"Yeah, I bet they are," Deeks muttered under his breath, and Kensi slipped her hand around his arm and gently squeezed his bicep.

"I'll ask around," Nell lied. "See you tomorrow, James."

After Eric disconnected the call, she said, "Well, at least we've confirmed that Julie was connected to these people in some way."

"He didn't mention that Julie's dead," Kensi noted. "Could he not know?"

Sterling shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he does and figures Holly hasn't found out."

"So he plays dumb to reel you - Holly - in," Deeks added, looking at Nell.

She nodded. "Either way, it doesn't matter. Time til the op is 22 hours."

"And we have much to do to prepare you," Hetty said. "But first, you should rest."

"I'm fine, Hetty," Nell insisted, but the manager shook her head.

"That is an order, Ms. Jones. Go home, all of you."

"C'mon," Sterling told her as he laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll walk you to your car."

Sensing she would get nowhere arguing further, she said, "Thanks," and followed him out of Ops and down the stairs. He slowed to match her pace, walking beside her as they made their way out to the parking lot. He nodded to many of the people they passed, and his easy demeanor relaxed her almost at once.

"So," he said after a short silence between them, "Don't be nervous about tomorrow. You'll be wired up so we can hear everything."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm not nervous," she replied, though that was only slightly true. "I'm just worried about Callen."

"You really care about him, huh?"

"He's..." she wrinkled her nose as she realized she had been about to reveal much more to him than she would even to Kensi.

How did he do that?

"I knew he would take this hard," she muttered, "but I worry that it'll be too much for him. He's been through so much lately; it's not fair to put more stress on him."

"But like you said, we don't have many options left if we want to take this operation down."

She nodded. "Right. But part of me thinks I'm only doing this to prove that I can."

"To who?" Sterling asked. "Yourself? Or Callen?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "He thinks I'm not ready to come back. But if I don't face my fears now then I never will."

As they reached her car, Sterling said, "Y'know, you mentioned that Callen's been through a lot."

"Yeah."

"But you didn't put yourself in there, too. Any reason for that?"

"I didn't..."

He lifted an eyebrow and leaned against her passenger-side door. "I don't know all the details and I don't need to, but I know enough. You keep trying to shift the focus onto him, hoping everyone will get distracted, and with most people it's working. But not with me. Why don't you want anyone to pay attention to you?"

"Because I don't need pity," she said. "I don't need 'poor Nell's or constant 'are you okay's. I need to move past it, not relive it."

Sterling shook his head. "Nope. That's not it."

Nell's eyes darkened. "Are you saying I'm lying?"

"Are you?"

"No."

Rather than reply, he continued to simply stare down at her, his green eyes calm but calculating, watching her reaction. It felt to Nell as if he were surgically dissecting her, reaching deep inside her for the truth, and she was helpless to stop him.

"I'm terrified," she finally admitted. "I wake up every day in a cold sweat, afraid that I'll find that I'm back there with those terrible men. So many times in that place, I thought I would die, and sometimes I welcomed the thought. But then I would look up and see Callen there, and I knew I would make it. I knew we would get out."

"Why?"

"Because he would die trying to save me. And I had to try for him, too."

"Because you love him?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. "And I know how that sounds and I don't care."

Sterling shrugged. "Makes no difference to me."

"I'm not supposed to. He's my superior..."

"Not directly."

"No, but still..."

He sighed and shifted his weight onto his other leg. "You're limiting yourself again." Nell just peered at him, so he explained. "If you really didn't care what others thought, you'd make it obvious how you felt."

"But he would never..."

At the roll of his eyes, she frowned. "Nell, I've been around a while. I also happen to be the same gender as Callen, and for someone so brilliant you can sure be dense. I've seen the way he looks at you, and if there isn't something more there than a general concern for your well-being, then I need to have my eyes checked."

"It's just because we were together in the warehouse, and..."

"You're telling me that he almost had a full-blown panic attack up in Ops just because he thinks of you as a member of his team?" Sterling asked incredulously. "Girl, you are blind."

"So what if does feel the same way?" She returned. "Now isn't the time to bring this up."

He looked down at her, noting her clenched fists and heaving chest. She was angry.

 _Good_ , he thought. _Better angry than afraid_. At least when she was angry, she wasn't second-guessing her every move. Now, if he could somehow ensure that she stayed this way through tomorrow, their plan might go off without a hitch.

Pushing himself off her car, he simply shrugged and said, "Maybe not. But if not now, when?"

With that, he strolled away through the parking lot, whistling softly as he went.

* * *

 _TBC..._


End file.
